Ex LIBRIS
H.CLAIK C

HAROLD

THE LAST OF THE
SAXON KINGS

Attest the betrothal of these young hearts, O ye Powers."

HAROLD

THE LAST OF THE
SAXON KINGS

By
EDWARD BULWER LYTTON

Illustrated by
MAX R. MORTON

VOLUME I

Charles Scribner's Sons
New York J904

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COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS.

DEDICATORY EPISTLE

TO

THE RIGHT HON. C. T. D'EYNCOURT, M.P.

I dedicate to you, my dear friend, a work, princi-
pally composed under your hospitable roof; and to
the materials of which your library, rich in the authori-
ties I most needed, largely contributed.

The idea of founding an historical romance on an
event so important and so national as the Norman In-
vasion, I had long entertained, and the chronicles of
that time had long been familiar to me. But it is an
old habit of mine, to linger over the plan and subject
of a work, for years, perhaps, before the work has, in
truth, advanced a sentence ; " busying myself," as old
Burton saith, " with this playing labour — otiosdque
diligentid ut vitarem torporcm fcriandi."

The main consideration which long withheld me
from the task, was in my sense of the unfamiliarity of
the ordinary reader with the characters, events, and, so
to speak, with the very physiognomy of a period ante
Agamemnona; before the brilliant age of matured chiv-
alry, which has given to song and romance the deeds
of the later knighthood, and the glorious frenzy of the
Crusades. The Norman Conquest was our Trojan
War; an epoch beyond which our learning seldom in-
duces our imagination to ascend.

In venturing on ground so new to fiction, I saw
before me the option of apparent pedantry, in the ob-
trusion of such research as might carry the reader
along with the Author, fairly and truly into the real
records of the time ; or of throwing aside pretensions
to accuracy altogether ; — and so rest contented to turn
history into flagrant romance, rather than pursue my
own conception of extracting its natural romance from

vi DEDICATORY EPISTLE

the actual history. Finally, not without some encour-
agement from you, (whereof take your due share of
blame!) I decided to hazard the attempt, and to adopt
that mode of treatment which, if making larger de-
mand on the attention of the reader, seemed the more
complimentary to his judgment.

The age itself, once duly examined, is full of those
elements which should awaken interest, and appeal to
the imagination. Not untruly has Sismondi said, that
the " Eleventh Century has a right to be considered a
great age. It was a period of life and of creation ; all
that there was of noble, heroic, and vigorous in the
Middle Ages commenced at that epoch." x But to us
Englishmen in especial, besides the more animated in-
terest in that spirit of adventure, enterprise, and im-
provement, of which the Norman chivalry was the
noblest type, there is an interest more touching and
deep in those last glimpses of the old Saxon mon-
archy, which open upon us in the mournful pages of
our chroniclers.

I have sought in this work, less to portray mere
manners, which modern researches have rendered fa-
miliar to ordinary students in our history, than to
bring forward the great characters, so carelessly dis-
missed in the long and loose record of centuries; to
show more clearly the motives and policy of the agents
in an event the most memorable in Europe ; and to con-
vey a definite, if general, notion of the human beings,
whose brains schemed, and whose hearts beat, in that
realm of shadows which lies behind the Norman Con-
quest ;

" Spes hominum caecos, morbos, votunique, labores,
Et passim toto volitantes aethere curas." 2

I have thus been faithful to the leading historical
incidents in the grand tragedy of Harold, and as care-
ful as contradictory evidences will permit, both as to
accuracy in the delineation of character, and correct-

1 Sismondi's History of France, vol. iv. p. 484.

2 " Men's blinded hopes, diseases, toil, and prayer,

And winged troubles peopling daily air."

DEDICATORY EPISTLE vii

ness in that chronological chain of dates without
which there can be no historical philosophy ; that is,
no tangible link between the cause and the effect. The
fictitious part of my narrative is, as in " Rienzi," and
the " Last of the Barons," confined chiefly to the pri-
vate life, with its domain of incident and passion,
which is the legitimate appanage of novelist or poet.
The love story of Harold and Edith is told differently
from the well-known legend, which implies a less pure
connection. But the whole legend respecting the
Edcva faira (Edith the fair) whose name meets us in
the " Domesday " roll, rests upon very slight authority
considering its popular acceptance ; 1 and the reasons
for my alterations will be sufficiently obvious -in a work
intended not only for general perusal, but which on
many accounts, I hope, may be entrusted fearlessly to
the young ; while those alterations are in strict accord-
ance with the spirit of the time, and tend to illustrate
one of its most marked peculiarities.

More apology is perhaps due for the liberal use to
which I have applied the superstitions of the age. But
with the age itself those superstitions are so inter-
woven— they meet us so constantly, whether in the
pages of our own croniclers, or the records of the kin-
dred Scandinavians — they are so intruded into the
very laws, so blended with the very life, of our Saxon
forefathers, that without employing them, in somewhat
of the same credulous spirit with which they were
originally conceived, no vivid impression of the Peo-

1 Merely upon the obscure MS. of the Waltham Monastery;
yet, such is the ignorance of popular criticism, that I have
been as much attacked for the license I have taken with the
legendary connection between Harold and Edith, as if that
connection were a proven and authenticated fact ! Again, the
pure attachment to which, in the romance, the loves of Edith
and Harold are confined, has been alleged to be a sort of moral
anachronism, — a sentiment wholly modern ; whereas, on the
contrary, an attachment so pure was infinitely more common
in that day than in this, and made one of the most striking
characteristics of the eleventh century; indeed of all the
earlier ages, in the Christian era, most subjected to monastic
influences.

viii DEDICATORY EPISTLE

pie they influenced can be conveyed. Not without truth
has an Italian writer remarked, " that he who would
depict philosophically an unphilosophical age, should
remember that, to be familiar with children, one must
sometimes think and feel as a child."

Yet it has not been my main endeavour to make
these ghostly agencies conducive to the ordinary poeti-
cal purposes of terror, and if that effect be at all created
by them, it will be, I apprehend, rather subsidiary to
the more historical sources of interest than, in itself, a
leading or popular characteristic of the work. My ob-
ject, indeed, in the introduction of the Danish Vala es-
pecially, has been perhaps as much addressed to the
reason as to the fancy, in showing what large, if dim,
remains of the ancient " heathenesse " still kept their
ground on the Saxon soil, contending with and con-
trasting the monkish superstitions, by which they were
ultimately replaced. Hilda is not in history ; but with-
out the romantic impersonation of that which Hilda
represents, the history of the time would be imperfectly
understood.

In the character of Harold — while I have carefully
examined and weighed the scanty evidences of its dis-
tinguishing attributes which are yet preserved to us —
and, in spite of no unnatural partiality, have not con-
cealed what appear to me its deficiences, and still less
the great error of the life it illustrates, — I have at-
tempted, somewhat and slightly, to shadow out the
ideal of the pure Saxon character, such as it was then,
with its large qualities undeveloped, but marked al-
ready by patient endurance, love of justice, and free-
dom— the manly sense of duty rather than the chivalric
sentiment of honour — and that indestructible element
of practical purpose and courageous will, which, de-
fying all conquest, and steadfast in all peril, was or-
dained to achieve so vast an influence over the destinies
of the world.

To the Norman Duke, I believe, I have been as
lenient as justice will permit, though it is as impossible
to deny h-is craft as to dispute his genius ; and so far as
the scope of my work would allow, I trust that I have

DEDICATORY EPISTLE ix

indicated fairly the grand characteristics of his coun-
trymen, more truly chivalric than their lord. It has
happened, unfortunately for that illustrious race of
men, that they have seemed to us, in England, repre-
sented by the Anglo-Norman kings. The fierce and
plotting William, the vain and worthless Rufus, the
cold-blooded and relentless Henry, are no adequate
representatives of the far nobler Norman vavasours,
whom even the English Chronicler admits to have been
" kind masters," and to whom, in spite of their kings,
the after liberties of England were so largely indebted.
But this work closes on the Field of Hastings ; and in
that noble struggle for national independence, the sym-
pathies of every true son of the land, even if tracing
his lineage back to the Norman victor, must be on the
side of the patriot Harold.

In the notes, which I have thought necessary aids to
the better comprehension of these volumes, my only
wish has been to convey to the general reader such
illustrative information as may familiarise him more
easily with the subject-matter of the book, or refresh
his memory on incidental details not without a na-
tional interest. In the mere references to authorities I
do not pretend to arrogate to a fiction the proper char-
acter of a history; the references are chiefly used either
where wishing pointedly to distinguish from invention
what was borrowed from a chronicle, or when differ-
ing from some popular historian to whom the reader-
might be likely to refer, it seemed well to state the
authority upon which the difference was founded.1

In fact, my main object has been one that compelled
me to admit graver matter than is common in romance,
but which I would fain hope may be saved from the
charge of dulness by some national sympathy between
author and reader; my object is attained, and attained
only, if, in closing the last page of this work, the
reader shall find that, in spite of the fictitious materials
admitted, he has formed a clearer and more intimate

1 Notes less immediately necessary to the context, or too
long not to interfere with the current of the narrative, are
thrown to the end of the work.

x DEDICATORY EPISTLE

acquaintance with a time, heroic though remote, and
characters which ought to have a household interest to
Englishmen, than the succinct accounts of the mere
historian could possibly afford him.

Thus, my dear D'Evncourt, under cover of an ad-
dress to yourself, have I made to the Public those ex-
planations which authors in general (and I not the
least so) are often overanxious to render.

This task done, my thoughts naturally fly back to
the associations I connected with your name when I
placed it at the head of this epistle. Again I seem to
find myself under your friendly roof; again to greet
my provident host entering that gothic chamber in
which I had been permitted to establish my unsocial
study, heralding the advent of majestic folios, and
heaping libraries round the unworthy work. Again,
pausing from my labour, I look through that castle
casement, and beyond that feudal moat, over the broad
landscapes which, if I err not, took their name from
the proud brother of the Conqueror himself ; or when,
in those winter nights, the grim old tapestry waved
in the dim recesses, I hear again the Saxon thegn
winding his horn at the turret door, and demanding
admittance to the halls from which the prelate of
Bayeux had so unrighteously expelled him x — what
marvel, that I lived in the times of which I wrote,
Saxon with the Saxon, Norman with the Norman —
that I entered into no gossip less venerable than that
current at the Court of the Confessor, or startled my
fellow-guests (when I deigned to meet them) with
the last news which Harold's spies had brought over
from the Camp at St. Valery? With all those folios,
giants of the gone world, rising around me daily, more
and more, higher and higher — Ossa upon Pelion — on
chair and table, hearth and floor ; invasive as Normans,
indomitable as Saxons, and tall as the tallest Danes
(ruthless host, I behold them still!) — with all thos?
disburied spectres rampant in the chamber, all the

1 There is a legend attached to my friend's house, that on
certain nights in the year, Eric the Saxon winds his horn at
the door, and, in forma spectri, serves his notice of ejectment.

DEDICATORY EPISTLE xi

armour rusting in thy galleries, all those mutilated
statues of early English kings (including St. Edward,
himself) — niched into thy grey, ivied walls — say in thy
conscience, O host, (if indeed that conscience be not
wholly callous!) shall I ever return to the nineteenth
century again?

But far beyond these recent associations of a single
winter (for which heaven assoil thee!) goes the mem-
ory of a friendship of many winters, and proof to the
storms of all. Often have I come for advice to your
wisdom, and sympathy to your heart, bearing back
with me, in all such seasons, new increase to that
pleasurable gratitude which is, perhaps, the rarest, nor
the least happy sentiment, that experience leaves to
man. Some differences, it may be, — whether on those
public questions which we see, every day, alienating
friendships that should have been beyond the reach of
laws and kings ; — or on the more scholastic contro-
versies which as keenly interest the minds of educated
men, — may at times deny to us the idem vcllc, atquc idem
nolle; but the firma amicitia needs not those common
links; the sunshine does not leave the wave for the
slight ripple which the casual stone brings a moment
to the surface.

Accept, in this dedication of a work which has lain
so long on my mind, and been endeared to me from
many causes, the token of an affection for you and
yours, strong as the ties of kindred, and lasting as the
belief in truth.

E. B. L.

PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION

The author of an able and learned article on
MABILLON 1 in the " Edinburgh Review," has accu-
rately described my aim in this work; although, with
that generous courtesy which characterises the true
scholar, in referring to the labours of a contemporary,
he has overrated my success. It was indeed my aim
" to solve the problem how to produce the greatest
amount of dramatic effect at the least expense of his-
torical truth " — I borrow the words of the Reviewer,
since none other could so tersely express my design,
or so clearly account for the leading characteristics in
its conduct and completion.

There are two ways of employing the materials of
History in the service of Romance : the one consists in
lending to ideal personages, and to an imaginary fable,
the additional interest to be derived from historical
groupings: the other, in extracting the main interest
of romantic narrative from History itself. Those who
adopt the former mode are at liberty to exclude all that
does not contribute to theatrical effect or picturesque
composition ; their fidelity to the period they select is
towards the manners and costume, not towards the
precise order of events, the moral causes from which
the events proceeded, and the physical agencies by
which they were influenced and controlled. The plan
thus adopted is unquestionably the more popular and
attractive, and, being favoured by the most illustrious
writers of historical romance, there is presumptive rea-
son for supposing it to be also that which is the more
agreeable to the art of fiction.

1 The " Edinburgh Review," No. CLXXIX. January, 1849.
Art. I. " Corresppndance inedite, de Mabillon et de Mont-
faucon, avec 1'Italie." Par M. Valery. Paris, 1848.

xfv PREFACE

But he who wishes to avoid the ground pre-occupied
by others, and claim in the world of literature some
spot, however humble, which he may " plough with
his own heifer," will seek to establish himself not
where the land is the most fertile, but where it is the
least enclosed. So, when I first turned my attention to
Historical Romance, my main aim was to avoid as
much as possible those fairer portions of the soil that
had been appropriated by the first discoverers. The
great author of Ivanhoe, and those amongst whom,
abroad and at home, his mantle was divided, had em-
ployed History to aid Romance; I contented myself
with the humbler task to employ Romance in the aid
of History, — to extract from authentic but neglected
chronicles, and the unfrequented storehouse of Archae-
ology, the incidents and details that enliven the dry
narrative of facts to which the general historian is
confined,— construct my plot from the actual events
themselves, and place the staple of such interest as I
could create in reciting the struggles, and delineating
the characters, of those who had been the living actors
in the real drama. For the main materials of the three
Historical Romances I have composed, I consulted the
original authorities of the time with a care as scrupu-
lous, as if intending to write, not a fiction but a his-
tory. And having formed the best judgment I could
of the events and characters of the age, I adhered
faithfully to what, as an Historian, I should have held
to be the true course and true causes of the great po-
litical events, and the essential attributes of the prin-
cipal agents. Solely in that inward life which, not
only as apart from the more public and historical, but
which, as almost wholly unknown, becomes the fair
domain of the poet, did I claim the legitimate privileges
of fiction, and even here I employed the agency of the
passions only so far as they served to illustrate what
I believed to be the genuine natures of the beings who
had actually lived, and to restore the warmth of the hu-
man heart to the images recalled from the grave.

Thus, even had I the gifts of my most illustrious
predecessors, I should be precluded the use of many of

PREFACE xv

the more brilliant. I shut myself out from the wider
scope permitted to their fancy, and denied myself the
license to choose or select materials, alter dates, vary
causes and effects according to the convenience of that
more imperial fiction which invents the Probable where
it discards the Real. The mode I have adopted has
perhaps only this merit, that it is my own — mine by
discovery and mine by labour. And if I can raise not
the spirits that obeyed the great master of romance,
nor gain the key to the fairyland that opened to his
spell, — at least I have not rifled the tomb of the wizard
to steal my art from the book that lies clasped on his
breast.

In treating of an age with which the general reader
is so unfamiliar as that preceding the Norman Con-
quest, it is impossible to avoid (especially in the earlier
portions of my tale) those explanations of the very
character of the time which would have been unnec-
essary if I had only sought in History the picturesque
accompaniments to Romance. I have to do more than
present an amusing picture of national manners — de-
tail the dress, and describe the banquet. According to
the plan I adopt, I have to make the reader acquainted
with the imperfect fusion of races in Saxon England,
familiarise him with the contests of parties and the
ambition of chiefs, show him the strength and the
weakness of a kindly but ignorant church ; of a brave
but turbulent aristocracy; of a people partially free,
and naturally energetic, but disunited by successive im-
migrations, and having lost much of the proud jeal-
ousies of national liberty by submission to the preced-
ing conquests of the Dane ; acquiescent in the sway of
foreign kings, and with that bulwark against invasion
which an hereditary order of aristocracy usually
erects, loosened to its very foundations by the copious
admixture of foreign nobles. I have to present to the
reader, here, the imbecile priestcraft of the illiterate
monk, there, the dark superstition that still consulted
the deities of the North by runes on the elm bark and
adjurations of the dead. And in contrast to those
pictures of a decrepit monarchy and a fated race, I

xvi PREFACE

have to bring forcibly before the reader the vigorous
attributes of the coming conquerors, — the stern will
and deep guile of the Norman chief — the comparative
knowledge of the rising Norman Church — the nascent
spirit of chivalry in the Norman vavasours ; a spirit
destined to emancipate the very people it contributed
to enslave, associated, as it imperfectly was, with the
sense of freedom: disdainful, it is true, of the villein,
but proudly curbing, though into feudal limits, the
domination of the liege. In a word, I must place fully
before the reader, if I would be faithful to the plan of
my work, the political and moral features of the age,
as well as its lighter and livelier attributes, and so lead
him to perceive, when he has closed the book, why
England was conquered, and how England survived
the Conquest.

In accomplishing this task, I inevitably incur the
objections which the task itself raises up, — objections
to the labour it has cost ; to the information which the
labour was undertaken in order to bestow ; objections
to passages which seem to interrupt the narrative, but
which in reality prepare for the incidents it embraces,
or explain the position of the persons whose characters
it illustrates, — whose fate it involves; objections to the
reference to authorities, where a fact might be dis-
puted, or mistaken for fiction ; objections to the use of
Saxon words, for which no accurate synonyms could
be exchanged; objections, in short, to the colouring,
conduct, and composition of the whole work; objec-
tions to all that separate it from the common crowd of
Romances, and stamp on it, for good or for bad, a
character peculiarly its own. Objections of this kind
I cannot remove, though I have carefully weighed
them all. And with regard to the objection most im-
portant to story-teller and novel reader — viz., the dry-
ness of some of the earlier portions, though I have
thrice gone over those passages, with the stern de-
termination to inflict summary justice upon every un-
necessary line, I must own to my regret that I have
found but little which it was possible to omit without
rendering the after narrative obscure, and without in-

PREFACE xvii

juring whatever of more stirring interest the story, as
it opens, may afford to the general reader of Romance.

As to the Saxon words used, an explanation of all
those that can be presumed unintelligible to a person
of ordinary education, is given either in the text or a
foot-note. Such archaisms are much less numerous
than certain critics would fain represent them to be:
and they have rarely indeed been admitted where
other words could have been employed without a
glaring anachronism, or a tedious periphrase. Would
it indeed be possible, for instance, to convey a notion
of the customs and manners of our Saxon forefathers
without employing words so mixed up with their daily
usages and modes of thinking as " wercgcld " and
"niddering"? Would any words from the modern
vocabulary suggest the same idea, or embody the same
meaning?

One critic good-humouredly exclaims, " We have a
full attendance of thegns and cnehts, but we should
have liked much better our old friends and approved
good masters thanes and knights." Nothing could be
more apposite for my justification than the instances
here quoted in censure ; nothing could more plainly
vindicate the necessity of employing the Saxon words.
For I should sadly indeed have misled the reader if I
had used the word knight in an age when knights were
wholly unknown to the Anglo-Saxon: and cneht no
more means what we understand by knight, than a
templar in modern phrase means a man in chain mail
vowed to celibacy, and the redemption of the Holy
Sepulchre from the hands of the Mussulman. While,
since thegn and thane are both archaisms, I prefer the
former ; not only for the same reason that induces Sir
Francis Palgrave to prefer it, viz., because it is the
more etymologically correct ; but because we take from
our neighbours the Scotch, not only the word thane,
but the sense in which we apply it; and that sense is
not the same that we ought to attach to the various and
complicated notions of nobility which the Anglo-Saxon
comprehended in the title of thegn. It has been per-
emptorily said by more than one writer in periodicals,

xviii PREFACE

that I have overrated the erudition of William, in per-
mitting him to know Latin ; nay, to have read the Com-
ments of Caesar at the age of eight. — Where these gen-
tlemen find the authorities to confute my statement I
know not; all I know is, that in the statement I have
followed the original authorities usually deemed the
best. And I content myself with referring the dis-
putants to a work not so difficult to procure as (and
certainly more pleasant to read than) the old Chroni-
cles. In Miss Strickland's " Lives of the Queens of
England," (Matilda of Flanders,) the same statement
is made, and no doubt upon the same authorities.

More surprised should I be (if modern criticism had
not taught me in all matters of assumption the nil ad-
mirari), to find it alleged that I have overstated not
only the learning of the Norman duke, but that which
flourished in Normandy under his reign; for I should
have thought that the fact of the learning which
sprung up in the most thriving period of that prin-
cipality ; the rapidity of its growth ; the benefits it de-
rived from Lanfranc; the encouragement it received
from William, had been phenomena too remarkable in
the annals of the age, and in the history of literature,
to have met with an incredulity which the most mod-
erate amount of information would have sufficed to
dispel. Not to refer such sceptics to graver authori-
ties, historical and ecclesiastical, in order to justify my
representations of that learning which, under William
the Bastard, made the schools of Normandy the popu-
lar academies of Europe, a page or two in a book so
accessible as Villemain's " Tableau du Moyen Age,"
will perhaps suffice to convince them of the hastiness of
their censure, and the error of their impressions.

It is stated in the Athenaeum, and, I believe, by a
writer whose authority on the merits of opera singers
I am far from contesting but of whose competence to
instruct the world in any other department of human
industry or knowledge I am less persuaded, " that I
am much mistaken when I represent not merely the
the young soldiers and courtiers of the reign

PREFACE xix

of the Confessor, as well acquainted with the literature
of Greece and Rome."

The remark, to say the least of it, is disingenuous.
I have done no such thing. This general animadver-
sion is only justified by a reference to the pedantry of
the Norman Mallet de Graville — and it is expressly
stated in the text that Mallet de Graville was originally
intended for the Church, and that it was the peculiarity
of his literary information, rare in a soldier (but for
which his earlier studies for the ecclesiastical calling
readily account, at a time when the Norman convent
of Bee was already so famous for the erudition of its
teachers, and the number of its scholars,) that at-
tracted towards him the notice of Lanfranc, and
founded his fortunes. Pedantry is made one of his
characteristics (as it generally was the characteristic
of any man with some pretensions to scholarship, in
the earlier ages;) and if he indulges in a classical
allusion, whether in taunting a courtier or conversing
with a " Saxon from the wealds of Kent," it is no more
out of keeping with the pedantry ascribed to him, than
it is unnatural in Dominie Sampson to rail at Meg
Merrilies in Latin, or James the First to examine a
young courtier in the same unfamiliar language. Nor
should the critic in question, when inviting his readers
to condemn me for making Mallet de Graville quote
Horace, have omitted to state that De Graville ex-
pressly laments that he had never read, nor could even
procure, a copy of the Roman poet — judging only of
the merits of Horace by an extract in some monkish
author, who was equally likely to have picked up his
quotation second-hand.

So, when a reference is made either by Graville, or
by any one else in the romance, to Homeric fables and
personages, a critic who had gone through the ordi-
nary education of an English gentleman would never
thereby have assumed that the person so referring had
read the poems of Homer themselves — he would have
known that Homeric fables, or personages, though not
the Homeric poems, were made familiar, by quaint

xx PREFACE

travesties,1 even to the most illiterate audience of the
gothic age. It was scarcely more necessary to know
Homer then than now, in order to have heard of
Ulysses. The writer in the Athenaeum is acquainted
with Homeric personages, but who on earth would
ever presume to assert that he is acquainted with
Homer?

Some doubt has been thrown upon my accuracy in
ascribing to the Anglo-Saxon the enjoyments of cer-
tain luxuries (gold and silver plate — the use of glass,
etc.), which were extremely rare in an age much
more recent. There is no ground for that doubt; nor
is there a single article of such luxury named in the
text, for the mention of which I have not ample
authority.

I have indeed devoted to this work a degree of re-
search which, if unusual to romance, I cannot consider
superfluous when illustrating an age so remote, and
events unparalleled in their influence over the destinies
of England. Nor am I without the hope, that what the
romance-reader at first regards as a defect, he may ul-
timately acknowledge as a merit; — forgiving me that
strain on his attention by which alone I could leave
distinct in his memory the action and the actors in that
solemn tragedy which closed on the field of Hastings,
over the corpse of the Last Saxon King.

1 And long before the date of the travesty known to us, and
most popular amongst our mediaeval ancestors, it might be
shown that some rude notion of Homer's fable and personages
had crept into the North.

CONTENTS

BOOK FIRST

PAGl

THE NORMAN VISITOR, THE SAXON KING, AND THE
DANISH PROPHETESS i

BOOK SECOND
LANFRANC THE SCHOLAR 47

BOOK THIRD
THE HOUSE OF GODWIN 84

BOOK FOURTH
THE HEATHEN ALTAR AND THE SAXON CHURCH . . 135

BOOK FIFTH
DEATH AND LOVE 191

BOOK SIXTH
AMBITION 227

BOOK SEVENTH
THE WELCH KING 285

NOTES . . 326

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Attest the betrothal of these young hearts, O ye

Powers Frontispiece

Facing
page

" This Harold ! this Harold ! all brave men speak to me
of this Harold." 80

" Harold dares not say to the maid of his love, ' Give me
thy right hand, and be my bride.'" 160

A woman stood dauntless between the Earl and his foes. 244

HAROLD,

THE LAST OF THE SAXON KINGS

BOOK I

THE NORMAN VISITOR, THE SAXON KING, AND
THE DANISH PROPHETESS

CHAPTER I

Merry was the month of May in the year of our
Lord 1052. Few were the boys, and few the lasses,
who overslept themselves on the first of that buxom
month. Long ere the dawn, the crowds had sought
mead and woodland, to cut poles and wreathe flowers.
Many a mead then lay fair and green beyond the vil-
lage of Charing, and behind the isle of Thorney,
(amidst the brakes and briars of which were then ris-
ing fast and fair the Hall and Abbey of Westminster;)
many a wood lay dark in the starlight, along the
higher ground that sloped from the dank Strand, with
its numerous canals or dykes; — and on either side of
the great road into Kent: — flutes and horns sounded
far and near through the green places, and laughter
and song, and the crash of breaking boughs.

As the dawn came grey up the east, arch and bloom-
ing faces bowed down to bathe in the May dew:
VOL. I.— i i

2 HAROLD

Patient oxen stood dozing by the hedge-rows, all fra-
grant with blossoms, till the gay spoilers of the May
came forth from the woods with lusty poles, followed
by girls with laps full of flowers, which they had
caught asleep. The poles were pranked with nose-
gays, and a chaplet was hung round the horns of every
ox. Then towards daybreak, the processions streamed
back into the city, through all its gates; boys with
their May-gads (peeled willow wands twined with
cowslips) going before; and clear through the lively
din of the horns and flutes, and amidst the moving
grove of branches, choral voices, singing some early
Saxon stave, precursor of the later song —

" We have brought the summer home."

Often in the good old days before the Monk-king
reigned, kings and ealdermen had thus gone forth
a-maying; but these merriments, savouring of hea-
thenesse, that good prince misliked: nevertheless the
song was as blithe, and the boughs were as green, as
if king and ealderman had walked in the train.

On the great Kent road, the fairest meads for the
cowslip, and the greenest woods for the bough, sur-
rounded a large building that once had belonged to
some voluptuous Roman, now all defaced and de-
spoiled; but the boys and the lasses shunned those
demesnes; and even in their mirth, as they passed
homeward along the road, and saw near the ruined
walls, and timbered outbuildings, grey Druid stones
(that spoke of an age before either Saxon or Roman
invader) gleaming through the dawn — the song was
hushed — the very youngest crossed themselves; and
the elder, in solemn whispers, suggested the precaution
of changing the song into a psalm. For in that old

HAROLD 3

building dwelt Hilda, of famous and dark repute;
Hilda, who, despite all law and canon, was still be-
lieved to practise the dismal arts of the Wicca and
Morthwyrtha (the witch and worshipper of the dead).
But once out of sight of those fearful precincts, the
psalm was forgotten, and again broke, loud, clear, and
silvery, the joyous chorus.

So, entering London about sunrise, doors and win-
dows were duly wreathed with garlands; and every
village in the suburbs had its May-pole, which stood
in its place all the year. On that happy day labour
rested; ceorl and theowe had alike a holiday to dance,
and tumble round the May-pole ; and thus, on the first
of May — Youth, and Mirth, and Music, " brought the
summer home."

The next day you might still see where the buxom
bands had been; you might track their way by fallen
flowers, and green leaves, and the deep ruts made by
oxen (yoked often in teams from twenty to forty, in
the wains that carried home the poles); and fair and
frequent throughout the land, from any eminence, you
might behold the hamlet swards still crowned with the
May trees, and air still seemed fragrant with their
garlands.

It is on that second day of May, 1052, that my story
opens, at the House of Hilda, the reputed Morthwyr-
tha. It stood upon a gentle and verdant height; and,
even through all the barbarous mutilation it had
undergone from barbarian hands, enough was left
strikingly to contrast the ordinary abodes of the
Saxon.

The remains of Roman art were indeed still numer-
ous throughout England, but it happened rarely that
the Saxon had chosen his home amidst the villas of

4 HAROLD

those noble and primal conquerors. Our first fore-
fathers were more inclined to destroy than to adapt.

By what chance this building became an exception
to the ordinary rule, it is now impossible to conjecture,
but from a very remote period it had sheltered suc-
cessive races of Teuton lords.

The changes wrought in the edifice were mournful
and grotesque. What was now the Hall, had evi-
dently been the atrium; the round shield, with its
pointed boss, the spear, sword, and small curved saex
of the early Teuton, were suspended from the col-
umns on which once had been wreathed the flowers;
in the centre of the floor, where fragments of the old
mosaic still glistened from the hard-pressed paving
of clay and lime, what now was the fire-place had
been the impluvium, and the smoke went sullenly
through the aperture in the roof, made of old to re-
ceive the rains of heaven. Around the Hall were still
left the old cubicula or dormitories, (small, high, and
lighted but from the doors,) which now served for
the sleeping-rooms of the humbler guest or the house-
hold servant; while at the farther end of the Hall, the
wide space between the columns, which had once
given ample vista from graceful awnings into tablinum
and viridarium, was filled up with rude rubble and
Roman bricks, leaving but a low, round, arched door,
that still led into the tablinum. But that tablinum,
formerly the gayest state-room of the Roman lord,
was now filled with various lumber, piles of faggots,
and farming utensils. On either side of this dese-
crated apartment, stretched, to the right, the old lara-
rium, stripped of its ancient images of ancestor and
god; to the left, what had been the gyncecium
(women's apartment).

HAROLD 5

One side of the ancient peristyle, which was of vast
extent, was now converted into stabling, sties for
swine, and stalls for oxen. On the other side was
constructed a Christian chapel, made of rough oak
planks, fastened by plates at the top, and with a roof
of thatched reeds. The columns and wall at the ex-
treme end of the peristyle were a mass of ruins,
through the gigantic rents of which loomed a grassy
hillock, its sides partially covered with clumps of
furze. On this hillock were the mutilated remains of
an ancient Druidical crommel, in the centre of which
(near a funeral mound, or barrow, with the bautas-
tean, or gravestone, of some early Saxon chief at one
end) had been sacrilegiously placed an altar to Thor,
as was apparent both from the shape, from a rude,
half-obliterated, sculptured relief of the god, with his
lifted hammer, and a few Runic letters. Amidst the
temple of the Briton the Saxon had reared the shrine
of his triumphant war-god.

Now still, amidst the ruins of that extreme side of
the peristyle which opened to this hillock were left,
first, an ancient Roman fountain, that now served to
water the swine, and next, a small sacellum, or fane to
i Bacchus (as relief and frieze, yet spared, betokened) :
thus the eye, at one survey, beheld the shrines of four
creeds: the Druid, mystical and symbolical; the Ro-
man, sensual, but humane; the Teutonic, ruthless and
destroying; and, latest risen and surviving all, though
as yet with but little of its gentler influence over the
deeds of men, the edifice of the Faith of Peace.

Across the peristyle, theowes and swineherds passed
to and fro: — in the atrium, men of a higher class, half-
armed, were, some drinking, some at dice, some play-
ing with huge hounds, or caressing the hawks that
stood grave and solemn on their perches.

6 HAROLD

The lararium was deserted; the gyncecium was still,
as in the Roman time, the favoured apartment of the
female portion of the household, and indeed bore the
same name,1 — and with the group there assembled
we have now to do.

The appliances of the chamber showed the rank and
wealth of the owner. At that period the domestic
luxury of the rich was infinitely greater than has been
generally supposed. The industry of the women dec-
orated wall and furniture with needlework and hang-
ings: and as a thegn forfeited his rank if he lost his
lands, so the higher orders of an aristocracy rather of
wealth than birth had, usually, a certain portion of
superfluous riches, which served to flow towards the
bazaars of the East and the nearer markets of Flan-
ders and Saracenic Spain.

In this room the walls were draped with silken
hangings richly embroidered. The single window
was glazed with a dull grey glass.2 On a beaufet
were ranged horns tipped with silver, and a few ves-
sels of pure gold. A small circular table in the cen-
tre was supported by symbolical monsters quaintly
carved. At one side of the wall, on a long settle,
some half-a-dozen handmaids were employed in spin-
ning; remote from them, and near the window, sat a

1 " The apartment in which the Anglo-Saxon women lived,
was called Gynecium." — FOSBROOKE, vol. ii., p. 570.

2 Glass, introduced about the time of Bede, was more com-
mon then in the houses of the wealthy, whether for vessels
or windows, than in the much later age of the gorgeous Plan-
tagenets. Alfred, in one of his poems, introduces glass as a
familiar illustration :

" So oft the mild sea
With south wind
As grey glass clear
Becomes grimly troubled."

SHAR. TURNER.

HAROLD 7

woman advanced in years, and of a mien and aspect
singularly majestic. Upon a small tripod before her
was a Runic manuscript, and an inkstand of elegant
form, with a silver graphium, or pen. At her feet
reclined a girl somewhat about the age of sixteen, her
long hair parted across her forehead and falling far
down her shoulders. Her dress was a linen under-
tunic, with long sleeves, rising high to the throat, and
without one of the modern artificial restraints of the
shape, the simple belt sufficed to show the slender
proportions and delicate outline of the wearer. The
colour of the dress was of the purest white, but its
hems, or borders, were richly embroidered. This
girl's beauty was something marvellous. In a land
proverbial for fair women, it had already obtained her
the name of " the fair." In that beauty were blended,
not as yet without a struggle for mastery, the two ex-
pressions seldom united in one countenance, the soft
and the noble; indeed in the whole aspect there was
the evidence of some internal struggle; the intelli-
gence was not yet complete; the soul and heart were
not yet united: and Edith the Christian maid dwelt
in the home of Hilda the heathen prophetess. The
girl's blue eyes, rendered dark by the shade of their
long lashes, were fixed intently upon the stern and
troubled countenance which was bent upon her own,
but bent with that abstract gaze which shows that the
soul is absent from the sight. So sate Hilda, and so
reclined her grandchild Edith.

" Grandam," said the girl in a low voice and after
a long pause; and the sound of her voice so startled
the handmaids, that every spindle stopped for a mo-
ment and then plied with renewed activity; " Gran-
dam, what troubles you — are you not thinking of the

8 HAROLD

great Earl and his fair sons, now outlawed far over
the wide seas? "

As the girl spoke, Hilda started slightly, like one
awakened from a dream; and when Edith had con-
cluded her question, she rose slowly to the height of
a statue, unbowed by her years, and far towering
above even the ordinary standard of men ; and turning
from the child, her eye fell upon the row of silent
maids, each at her rapid, noiseless, stealthy work.
" Ho! " said she; her cold and haughty eye gleaming
as she spoke; " yesterday they brought home the sum-
mer— to-day, ye aid to bring home the winter. Weave
well — heed well warf and woof; Skulda1 is amongst
ye, and her pale fingers guide the web! "

The maidens lifted not their eyes, though in every
cheek the colour paled at the words of the mistress.
The spindles revolved, the thread shot, and again
there was silence more freezing than before.

" Askest thou," said Hilda at length, passing to the
child, as if the question so long addressed to her ear
had only just reached her mind; " askest thou if I
thought of the Earl and his fair sons? — yea, I heard
the smith welding arms on the anvil, and the hammer
of the shipwright shaping strong ribs for the horses
of the sea. Ere the reaper has bound his sheaves,
Earl Godwin will scare the Normans in the halls of
the Monk-king, as the hawk scares the brood in the
dovecot. Weave well, heed well warf and woof, nim-
ble maidens — strong be the texture, for biting is the
worm."

" What weave they, then, good grandmother? "
asked the girl, with wonder and awe in her soft mild
eyes.

1 Skulda, the Norna, or Fate, that presided over the future.

HAROLD 9

"The winding-sheet of the great!"

Hilda's lips closed, but her eyes, yet brighter than
before, gazed upon space, and her pale hand seemed
tracing letters, like runes, in the air.

Then slowly she turned, and looked forth through
the dull window. " Give me my coverchief and my
staff," said she quickly.

Every one of the handmaids, blithe for excuse to
quit a task which seemed recently commenced, and
was certainly not endeared to them by the knowledge
of its purpose communicated to them by the lady, rose
to obey.

Unheeding the hands that vied with each other,
Hilda took the hood, and drew it partially over her
brow. Leaning lightly on a long staff, the head of
which formed a raven, carved from some wood stained
black, she passed into the hall, and thence through
the desecrated tablinum, into the mighty court formed
by the shattered peristyle; there she stopped, mused
a moment, and called on Edith. The girl was soon
by her side.

" Come with me. — There is a face you shall see but
twice in life; — this day," — and Hilda paused, and the
rigid and almost colossal beauty of her countenance
softened.

" And when again, my grandmother? "

" Child, put thy warm hand in mine. So! the vision
darkens from me, — when again, saidst thou, Edith?
— alas, I know not."

V/hile thus speaking, Hilda passed slowly by the
Roman fountain and the heathen fane, and ascended
the little hillock. There on the opposite side of the
summit, backed by the Druid crommel and the Teu-
ton altar, she seated herself deliberately on the sward.

10 HAROLD

A few daisies, primroses, and cowslips, grew around ;
these Edith began to pluck. Singing, as she wove,
a simple song, that, not more by the dialect than the
sentiment, betrayed its origin in the ballad of the
Norse,1 which had, in its more careless composition,
a character quite distinct from the artificial poetry of
the Saxons. The song may be thus imperfectly ren-
dered:

" Merrily the throstle sings

Amid the merry May;
The throstle sings but to my ear ;
My heart is far away !

" Blithely bloometh mead and bank ;

And blithely buds the tree;
And hark ! — they bring the Summer home ;
It has no home with me !

" They have outlawed him — my Summer !

An outlaw far away ! —

The birds may sing, the flowers may bloom, —
O, give me back my May ! "

As she came to the last line, her soft low voice
seemed to awaken a chorus of sprightly horns and
trumpets, and certain other wind instruments peculiar
to the music of that day. The hillock bordered the
high road to London — which then wound through
wastes of forest land — and now emerging from the
trees to the left appeared a goodly company. First

1 The historians of our literature have not done justice to
the great influence which the poetry of the Danes has had
upon our early national muse. I have little doubt but that to
that source may be traced the minstrelsy of our borders, and
the Scottish Lowlands ; while, even in the central counties,
the example and exertions of Canute must have had consid-
erable effect on the taste and spirit of our Scops. That great
prince afforded the amplest encouragement to Scandinavian
poetry, and Olaus names eight Danish poets, who flourished
at his court.

HAROLD II

came two riders abreast, each holding a banner. Gn
the one was depicted the cross and five martlets, the
device of Edward, afterwards surnamed the Con-
fessor: on the other, a plain broad cross with a deep
border round it, and the streamer shaped into sharp
points.

The first was familiar to Edith, who dropped her
garland to gaze on the approaching pageant; the last
was strange to her. She had been accustomed to see
the banner of the great Earl Godwin by the side of
the Saxon king; and she said, almost indignantly, —

" Who dares, sweet grandam, to place banner or
pennon where Earl Godwin's ought to float?"

" Peace," said Hilda, " peace and look."

Immediately behind the standard-bearers came two
figures — strangely dissimilar indeed in mien, in years,
in bearing: each bore on his left wrist a hawk. The
one was mounted on a milk-white palfrey, with hous-
ings inlaid with gold and uncut jewels. Though not
really old — for he was much on this side of sixty —
both his countenance and carriage evinced age. His
complexion, indeed, was extremely fair, and his
cheeks ruddy; but the visage was long and deeply
furrowed, and from beneath a bonnet not dissimilar
to those in use among the Scotch, streamed hair long
and white as snow, mingling with a large and forked
beard. White seemed his chosen colour. White was
the upper tunic clasped on his shoulder with a broad
ouche or brooch; white the woollen leggings fitted to
somewhat emaciated limbs; and white the mantle,
though broidered with a broad hem of gold and pur-
ple. The fashion of his dress was that which well
became a noble person, but it suited ill the somewhat
frail and graceless figure of the rider. Nevertheless,

12 HAROLD

as Edith saw him, she rose, with an expression of deep
reverence on her countenance, and saying, " It is our
lord the King," advanced some steps down the hillock,
and there stood, her arms folded on her breast, and
quite forgetful, in her innocence and youth, that she
had left the house without the cloak and coverchief
which were deemed indispensable to the fitting ap-
pearance of maid and matron when they were seen
abroad.

" Fair sir, and brother mine," said the deep voice
of the younger rider, in the Romance or Norman
tongue, " I have heard that the small people of whom
my neighbours, the Bretons, tell us much, abound
greatly in this fair land of yours; and if I were not by
the side of one whom no creature unassoilzed and
unbaptised dare approach, by sweet St. Valery I
should say — yonder stands one of those same gentilles
fees!"

King Edward's eye followed the direction of his
companion's outstretched hand, and his quiet brow
slightly contracted as he beheld the young form of
Edith standing motionless a few yards before him,
with the warm May wind lifting and playing with her
long golden locks. He checked his palfrey, and mur-
mured some Latin words which the knight beside him
recognised as a prayer, and to which, doffing his cap,
he added an Amen, in a tone of such unctuous grav-
ity, that the royal saint rewarded him with a faint
approving smile, and an affectionate " Bene bene,
Piosissime."

Then inclining his palfrey's head towards the knoll,
he motioned to the girl to approach him. Edith, with
a heightened colour, obeyed, and came to the road-
side. The standard-bearers halted, as did the king

HAROLD 13

and his comrade — the procession behind halted —
thirty knights, two bishops, eight abbots, all on fiery
steeds and in Norman garb — squires and attendants
on foot — a long and pompous retinue — they halted all.
Only a stray hound or two broke from the rest, and
wandered into the forest land with heads trailing.

" Edith, my child," said Edward, still in Norman-
French, for he spoke his own language with hesita-
tion, and the Romance tongue, which had long been
familiar to the higher classes in England, had, since
his accession, become the only language in use at
court, and as such every one of " Eorl-kind " was sup-
posed to speak it ; — " Edith, my child, thou hast not
forgotten my lessons, I trow; thou singest the hymns
I gave thee, and neglectest not to wear the relic
round thy neck."

The girl hung her head, and spoke not.

" How comes it, then," continued the King, with
a voice to which he in vain endeavoured to impart an
accent of severity, " how comes it, O little one, that
thou, whose thoughts should be lifted already above
this carnal world, and eager for the service of Mary
the chaste and blessed, standest thus hoodless and
alone on the waysides, a mark for the eyes of men?
go to, it is naught."

Thus reproved, and in presence of so large and
brilliant a company, the girl's colour went and came,
her breast heaved high, but with an effort beyond
her age she checked her tears, and said meekly, " My
grandmother, Hilda, bade me come with her, and I
came."

"Hilda!" said the King, backing his palfrey with
apparent perturbation, "but Hilda is not with thee;
I see her not."

I4 HAROLD

As he spoke, Hilda rose, and so suddenly did her tall
form appear on the brow of the hill, that it seemed
as if she had emerged from the earth. With a light
and rapid stride she gained the side of her grand-
child; and after a slight and haughty reverence, said,
" Hilda is here; what wants Edward the King with
his servant Hilda? "

" Nought, nought," said the King, hastily; and
something like fear passed over his placid counte-
nance; "save, indeed," he added, with a reluctant
tone, as that of a man who obeys his conscience
against his inclination, " that I would pray thee to
keep this child pure to threshold and altar, as is meet
for one whom our Lady, the Virgin, in due time, will
elect to her service."

" Not so, son of Etheldred, son of Woden, the last
descendant of Penda should live, not to glide a ghost
amidst cloisters, but to rock children for war in their
father's shield. Few men are there yet like the men
of old; and while the foot of the foreigner is on the
Saxon soil no branch of the stem of Woden should be
nipped in the leaf."

"Per la resplendar De,1 bold dame," cried the
knight by the side of Edward, while a lurid flush
passed over his cheek of bronze; "but thou art too
glib of tongue for a subject, and pratest overmuch of
Woden, the Paynim, for the lips of a Christian ma-
tron."

Hilda met the flashing eye of the knight with a brow
of lofty scorn, on which still a certain terror was vis-
ible.

" Child," she said, putting her hand upon Edith's

1 " By the splendour of God."

HAROLD 15

fair locks; "this is the man them shalt see but twice
in thy life; — look up, and mark well!"

Edith instinctively raised her eyes, and, once fixed
upon the knight, they seemed chained as by a spell.
His vest, of a cramoisay so dark, that it seemed black
beside the snowy garb of the Confessor, was edged by
a deep band of embroidered gold; leaving perfectly
bare his firm, full throat — firm and full as a column of
granite, — a short jacket or manteline of fur, pendant
from the shoulders, left developed in all its breadth a
breast, that seemed meet to stay the march of an
army; and on the left arm, curved to support the fal-
con, the vast muscles rose, round and gnarled, through
the close sleeve.

In height, he was really but little above the stature
of many of those present; nevertheless, so did his
port,1 his air, the nobility of his large proportions, fill
the eye, that he seemed to tower immeasurably above
the rest.

His countenance was yet more remarkable than his
form; still in the prime of youth, he seemed at the
first glance younger, at the second older, than he
was. At the first glance younger; for his face was
perfectly shaven, without even the moustache which
the Saxon courtier, in imitating the Norman, still de-
clined to surrender; and the smooth visage and bare
throat sufficed in themselves to give the air of youth
to that dominant and imperious presence. His small
skull-cap left unconcealed his forehead, shaded with
short thick hair, uncurled, but black and glossy as
the wings of a raven. It was on that forehead that
time had set its trace; it was knit into a frown over

1 See Note (A) at the etid of this volume.

16 HAROLD

the eyebrows; lines deep as furrows crossed its broad,
but not elevated expanse. That frown spoke of hasty
ire and the habit of stern command; those furrows
spoke of deep thought and plotting scheme; the one
betrayed but temper and circumstance; the other,
more noble, spoke of the character and the intellect.
The face was square, and the regard lion-like; the
mouth — small, and even beautiful in outline — had a
sinister expression in its exceeding firmness; and the
jaw — vast, solid, as if bound in iron — showed obsti-
nate, ruthless, determined will; such a jaw as be-
longs to the tiger amongst beasts, and the conqueror
amongst men; such as it is seen in the effigies of
Caesar, of Cortes, of Napoleon.

That presence was well calculated to command the
admiration of women, not less than the awe of men.
But no admiration mingled with the terror that seized
the girl as she gazed long and wistful upon the knight.
The fascination of the serpent on the bird held her
mute and frozen. Never was that face forgotten;
often in after-life it haunted her in the noon-day, it
frowned upon her dreams.

" Fair child," said the knight, fatigued at length by
the obstinacy of the gaze, while that smile peculiar to
those who have commanded men relaxed his brow,
and restored the native beauty to his lip, " fair child,
learn not from thy peevish grandam so uncourteous
a lesson as hate of the foreigner. As thou growest
into womanhood, know that Norman knight is sworn
slave to lady fair; " and, doffing his cap, he took from
it an uncut jewel, set in Byzantine filigree work.
" Hold out thy lap, my child ; and when thou hearest
the foreigner scoffed, set this bauble in thy locks,

HAROLD 17

and think kindly of William, Count of the Nor-
mans." l

He dropped the jewel on the ground as he spoke;
for Edith, shrinking and unsoftened towards him,
held no lap to receive it; and Hilda, to whom Edward
had been speaking in a low voice, advanced to the
spot and struck the jewel with her staff under the
hoofs of the king's palfrey.

" Son of Emma, the Norman woman, who sent thy
youth into exile, trample on the gifts of thy Norman
kinsman. And if, as men say, thou art of such gifted
holiness that Heaven grants thy hand the power to
heal, and thy voice the power to curse, heal thy coun-
try, and curse the stranger!"

She extended her right arm to William as she spoke,
and such was the dignity of her passion, and such its
force, that an awe fell upon all. Then dropping her
hood over her face, she slowly turned away, regained
the summit of the knoll, and stood erect beside the
altar of the Northern god, her face invisible through
the hood drawn completely over it, and her form mo-
tionless as a statue.

" Ride on," said Edward, crossing himself.

" Now by the bones of St. Valery," said William,
after a pause, in which his dark keen eye noted the
gloom upon the King's gentle face, " it moves much
my simple wonder how even presence so saintly can
hear without wrath words so unleal and foul. Gram-

1 It is noticeable that the Norman dukes did not call them-
selves Counts or Dukes of Normandy, but of the Normans;
and the first Anglo-Norman kings, till Richard the First,
styled themselves Kings of the English, not of England. In
both Saxon and Norman chronicles, William usually bears
the title of Count (Comes), but in this tale he will be gen-
erally called Duke, as a title more familiar to us.
VOL. L— 2

i 8 HAROLD

ercy, an the proudest dame in Normandy (and I take
her to be wife to my stoutest baron, William Fitz-
osborne) had spoken thus to me — "

" Thou wouldst have done as I, my brother," in-
terrupted Edward; "prayed to our Lord to pardon
her, and rode on pitying."

William's lip quivered with ire, yet he curbed the
reply that sprang to it, and he looked with affection
genuinely more akin to admiration than scorn, upon
his fellow-prince. For, fierce and relentless as the
Duke's deeds were, his faith was notably sincere; and
while this made, indeed, the prince's chief attraction
to the pious Edward, so, on the other hand, this bowed
the Duke in a kind of involuntary and superstitious
homage to the man who sought to square deeds to
faith. It is ever the case with stern and stormy spir-
its, that the meek ones which contrast them steal
strangely into their affections. This principle of hu-
man nature can alone account for the enthusiastic
devotion which the mild sufferings of the Saviow
awoke in the fiercest exterminators of the North. In
proportion, often, to the warrior's ferocity, was his
love to that Divine model, at whose sufferings he wept,
to whose tomb he wandered barefoot, and whose ex-
ample of compassionate forgiveness he would have
thought himself the basest of men to follow!

" Now, by my halidame, I honour and love thee,
Edward," cried the Duke, with a heartiness more
frank than was usual to him : " and were I thy sub-
ject, woe to man or woman that wagged tongue to
wound thee by a breath. But who and what is this
same Hilda? one of thy kith and kin? — surely not less
than kingly blood runs so bold? "

HAROLD 19

" William, bicn aime," * said the King, " it is true
that Hilda, whom the saints assoil, is of kingly blood,
though not of our kingly line. It is feared," added
Edward, in a timid whisper, as he cast a hurried glance
around him, " that this unhappy woman has ever been
more addicted to the rites of her pagan ancestors than
to those of Holy Church; and men do say that she
hath thus acquired from fiend or charm secrets de-
voutly to be eschewed by the righteous. Nathless,
let us rather hope that her mind is somewhat dis-
traught with her misfortunes."

The King sighed, and the Duke sighed too, but the
Duke's sigh spoke impatience. He swept behind him
a stern and withering look towards the proud figure
of Hilda, still seen through the glades, and said in a
sinister voice: "Of kingly blood; but this witch of
Woden hath no sons or kinsmen, I trust, who pre-
tend to the throne of the Saxon?"

" She is sibbe to Githa, wife of Godwin," answered
the King, "and that is her most perilous connection;
for the banished Earl, as thou knowest, did not pre-
tend to fill the throne, but he was content with nought
less than governing our people."

The King then proceeded to sketch an outline of
the history of Hilda, but his narrative was so deformed
both by his superstitions and prejudices, and his im-
perfect information in all the leading events and char-
acters in his own kingdom, that we will venture to
take upon ourselves his task; and while the train ride

1 The few expressions borrowed occasionally from the Ro-
mance tongue, to give individuality to the speaker, will gen-
erally be translated into modern French ; for the same reason
as Saxon is rendered into modern English, viz., that the words
may be intelligible to the reader.

20 HAROLD

on through glade and mead, we will briefly narrate,
from -our own special sources of knowledge, the
chronicle of Hilda, the Scandinavian Vala.

CHAPTER II

A magnificent race of men were those war sons
of the old North, whom our popular histories, so su-
perficial in their accounts of this age, include in the
common name of the " Danes." They replunged into
barbarism the nations over which they swept; but
from that barbarism they reproduced the noblest ele-
ments of civilisation. Swede, Norwegian, and Dane,
differing in some minor points, when closely exam-
ined, had yet one common character viewed at a dis-
tance. They had the same prodigious energy, the
same passion for freedom, individual and civil, the
same splendid errors in the thirst for fame and the
" point of honour; " and above all, as a main cause of
civilisation, they were wonderfully pliant and malleable
in their admixtures with the peoples they overran.
This is their true distinction from the stubborn Celt,
who refuses to mingle, and disdains to improve.

Frankes, the archbishop, baptised Rolf-ganger:1
and within a little more than a century afterwards,
the descendants of those terrible heathens who had
spared neither priest nor altar, were the rrlost redoubt-
able defenders of the Christian Church; their old lan-
guage forgotten (save by a few in the town of Bay-
eux), their ancestral names 2 (save among a few of

1 " Roman de Rou," part i., v. 1914.

2 The reason why the Normans lost their old names is to be
found in their conversion to Christianity. They were bap-
tised; and Franks, as their godfathers, gave them new appel-

HAROLD 21

the noblest) changed into French titles, and little else
but the indomitable valour of the Scandinavian re-
mained unaltered amongst the arts and manners of
the Frankish-Norman.

In like manner their kindred tribes, who had poured
into Saxon England to ravage and lay desolate, had
no sooner obtained from Alfred the Great permanent
homes, than they became perhaps the most power-
ful, and in a short time not the least patriotic, part of
the Anglo-Saxon population.1 At the time our story
opens, these Northmen, under the common name of
Danes, were peaceably settled in no less than fifteen *
counties in England; their nobles abounded in towns
and cities beyond the boundaries of those counties

lations. Thus, Charles the Simple insists that Rolf-ganger
shall change his law (creed) and his name, and Rolf or Rou
is christened Robert. A few of those who retained Scandi-
navian names at the time of the Conquest will be cited
hereafter.

1 Thus in 991, about a century after the first settlement, the
Danes of East Anglia gave the only efficient resistance to the
host of the Vikings under Justin and Gurthmund ; and Brith-
noth, celebrated by the Saxon poet, as a Saxon par excellence,
the heroic defender of his native soil, was, in all probability,
of Danish descent. Mr. Laing, in his preface to his transla-
tion of the Heimskringla, truly observes, " that the rebellions
against William the Conqueror, and his successors, appear to
have been almost always raised, or mainly supported, in the
counties of recent Danish descent, not in those peopled by the
old Anglo-Saxon race."

The portion of Mercia, consisting of the burghs of Lan-
caster, Lincoln, Nottingham, Stamford, and Derby, became a
Danish state in A.D. 877; — East Anglia, consisting of Cam-
bridge, Suffolk, Norfolk, and the Isle of Ely, in A.D. 879-80;
and the vast territory of Northumbria, extending all north the
Humber, into all that part of Scotland south of the Frith, in
A.D. 876. — See PALGRAVE'S Commonwealth. But besides their
more allotted settlements, the Danes were interspersed as land-
owners all over England.

2 Bromton Chron. — viz., Essex, Middlesex, Suffolk, Norfolk,
Herts, Cambridgeshire, Hants, Lincoln, Notts, Derby, North-
ampton, Leicestershire, Bucks, Beds, and the vast territory
called Northumbria.

22 HAROLD

which bore the distinct appellation of Danelagh. They
were numerous in London: in the precincts of which
they had their own burial-place, to the chief municipal
court of which they gave their own appellation — the
Hustings.1 Their power in the national assembly of
the Witan had decided the choice of kings. Thus,
with some differences of law and dialect, these once
turbulent invaders had amalgamated amicably with
the native race.2 And to this day, the gentry, traders,
and farmers of more than one-third of England, and
in those counties most confessed to be in the van of
improvement, descend from Saxon mothers indeed,
but from Viking fathers. There was in reality little
difference in race between the Norman knight of the
time of Henry I. and the Saxon franklin of Norfolk
and York. Both on the mother's side would most
probably have been Saxon, both on the father's would
have traced to the Scandinavian.

But though this character of adaptability was gen-
eral, exceptions in some points were necessarily found,
and these were obstinate in proportion to the adher-
ence to the old pagan faith, or the sincere conversion
to Christianity. The Norwegian chronicles, and pas-
sages in our own history, show how false and hollow
was the assumed Christianity of many of these fierce
Odin-worshippers. They willingly enough accepted
the outward sign of baptism, but the holy water

1 PALGRAVE'S History of England, p. 315.

* The laws collected by Edward the Confessor, and in later
times so often and so fondly referred to, contained many in-
troduced by the Danes, which had grown popular with the
Saxon people. Much which we ascribe to the Norman Con-
queror, pre-existed in the Anglo-Danish, and may be found
both in Normandy, and parts of Scandinavia, to this day. —
See HAKEWELI/S Treatise on the Antiquity of Laws in this
Island, in HEARNE'S Curious Discourses.

HAROLD 23

changed little of the inner man. Even Harold, the
son of Canute, scarce seventeen years before the date
we have now entered, being unable to obtain from the
Archbishop of Canterbury — who had espoused the
cause of his brother Hardicanute — the consecrating
benediction, lived and reigned as one who had ab-
jured Christianity.1

The priests, especially on the Scandinavian conti-
nent, were often forced to compound with their grim
converts, by indulgence to certain habits, such as in-
discriminate polygamy. To eat horse-flesh in honour
of Odin, and to marry wives ad libitum, were the main
stipulations of the neophytes. And the puzzled monks,
often driven to a choice, yielded the point of the wives,
but stood firm on the graver article of the horse-flesh.

With their new religion, very imperfectly under-
stood, even when genuinely received, they retained
all that host of heathen superstition which knits itself
with the most obstinate instincts in the human breast.
Not many years before the reign of the Confessor,
the laws of the great Canute against witchcraft and
charms, the worship of stones, fountains, runes by ash
and elm, and the incantations that do homage to the
dead, were obviously rather intended to apply to the
recent Danish converts, than to the Anglo-Saxons,
already subjugated for centuries, body and soul, to
the domination of the Christian monks.

Hilda, a daughter of the royalty of Denmark, and
cousin to Githa (niece to Canute, whom that king had
bestowed in second spousals upon Godwin), had come
over to England with a fierce Jarl, her husband, a year
after Canute's accession to the throne — both con-
verted nominally, both secret believers in Thor and

Odin.

1 PALGRAVE'S History of England, p. 322.

24 HAROLD

Hilda's husband had fallen in one of the actions in
the Northern seas, between Canute and St. Olave,
King of Norway (that saint himself, by the bye, a
most ruthless persecutor of his forefathers' faith, and
a most unqualified assertor of his heathen privilege to
extend his domestic affections beyond the severe pale
which should have confined them to a single wife.
His natural son Magnus then sat on the Danish
throne). The Jarl died as he had wished to die, the
last man on board his ship, with the soothing con-
viction that the Valkyrs would bear him to Valhalla.

Hilda was left with an only daughter, whom Canute
bestowed on Ethelwolf, a Saxon Earl of large do-
mains, and tracing his descent from Penda, that old
King of Mercia who refused to be converted, but said
so discreetly, that he had no objection to his neigh-
bours being Christians, if they would practise that
peace and forgiveness which the monks told him were
the elements of the faith.

Ethelwolf fell under the displeasure of Hardicanute,
perhaps because he was more Saxon than Danish; and
though that savage king did not dare openly to ar-
raign him before the Witan, he gave secret orders by
which he was butchered on his own hearthstone, in
the arms of his wife, who died shortly afterwards of
grief and terror. The only orphan of this unhappy
pair, Edith, was thus consigned to the charge of Hilda.

It was a necessary and invaluable characteristic of
that " adaptability " which distinguished the Danes,
that they transferred to the land in which they settled
all the love they had borne to that of their ancestors;
and so far as attachment to soil was concerned, Hilda
had grown no less in heart an Englishwoman than if
she had been born and reared amidst the glades and

HAROLD 25

knolls from which the smoke of her hearth rose
through the old Roman compluvium.

But in all else she was a Dane. Dane in her creed
and her habits — Dane in her intense and brooding im-
agination— in the poetry that filled her soul, peopled
the air with spectres, and covered the leaves of the
trees with charms. Living in austere seclusion after
the death of her lord, to whom she had borne a Scan-
dinavian woman's devoted but heroic love, — sorrow-
ing, indeed, for his death, but rejoicing that he fell
amidst the feast of ravens, — her mind settled more and
more year by year, and day by day, upon those visions
of the unknown world, which in every faith conjure
up the companions of solitude and grief.

Witchcraft in the Scandinavian North assumed
many forms, and was connected by many degrees.
There was the old and withered hag, on whom, in our
later mediaeval ages the character was mainly be-
stowed; there was the terrific witch-wife, or wolf-
witch, who seems wholly apart from human birth and
attributes, like the weird sisters of Macbeth — creat-
ures who entered the house at night and seized war-
riors to devour them, who might be seen gliding over
the sea, with the carcase of the wolf dripping blood
from their giant jaws ; and there was the more serene,
classical, and awful vala, or sibyl, who, honoured by
chiefs and revered by nations, foretold the future, and
advised the deeds of heroes. Of these last, the Norse
chronicles tell us much. They were often of rank and
wealth, they were accompanied by trains of handmaids
and servants — kings led them (when their counsel was
sought) to the place of honour in the hall, and their
heads were sacred, as those of ministers to the gods.

This last state in the grisly realm of the Wig-laer

26 HAROLD

(wizard-lore) was the one naturally appertaining to the
high rank, and the soul, lofty though blind and per-
verted, of the daughter of warrior-kings. All prac-
tice of the art to which now for long years she had
devoted herself, that touched upon the humble desti-
nies of the vulgar, the child of Odin 1 haughtily dis-
dained. Her reveries were upon the fate of kings
and kingdoms ; she aspired to save or to rear the dy-
nasties which should rule the races yet unborn. In
youth proud and ambitious, — common faults with her
countrywomen, — on her entrance into the darker
world, she carried with her the prejudices and pas-
sions that she had known in that coloured by the ex-
ternal sun.

All her human affections were centred in her grand-
child Edith, the last of a race royal on either side. Her
researches into the future had assured her, that the
life and death of this fair child were entwined with the
fates of a king, and the same oracles had intimated a
mysterious and inseparable connection between her
own shattered house and the flourishing one of Earl
Godwin, the spouse of her kinswoman Githa: so that
with this great family she was as intimately bound by
the links of superstition as by the ties of blood. The
eldest born of Godwin, Sweyn, had been at first espe-
cially her care and her favourite; and he, of more
poetic temperament than his brothers, had willingly
submitted to her influence. But of all the brethren,
as will be seen hereafter, the career of Sweyn had been
most noxious and ill-omened; and at that moment,
while the rest of the house carried with it into exile

1 The name of this god is spelt Odin, when referred to as
the object of Scandinavian worship; Woden, when applied
directly to the deity of the Saxons.

HAROLD 27

the deep and indignant sympathy of England, no man
said of Sweyn, "God bless him!"

But as the second son, Harold, had grown from
childhood into youth, Hilda had singled him out with
a preference even more marked than that she had
bestowed upon Sweyn. The stars and the runes as-
sured her of his future greatness, and the qualities and
talents of the young Earl had, at the very onset of his
career, confirmed the accuracy of their predictions.
Her interest in Harold became the more intense, part-
ly because whenever she consulted the future for the
lot of her grandchild Edith, she invariably found it
associated with the fate of Harold — partly because all
her arts had failed to penetrate beyond a certain point
in their joint destinies, and left her mind agitated and
perplexed between hope and terror. As yet, how-
ever, she had wholly failed in gaining any ascendancy
over the young Earl's vigorous and healthful mind:
and though, before his exile, he came more often than
any of Godwin's sons to the old Roman house, he had
smiled with proud incredulity at her vague prophecies,
and rejected all her offers of aid from invisible agen-
cies with the calm reply — " The brave man wants no
charms to encourage him to his duty, and the good
man scorns all warnings that would deter him from
fulfilling it."

Indeed, though Hilda's magic was not of the malev-
olent kind, and sought the source of its oracles not
in fiends but gods, (at least the gods in whom she
believed,) it was noticeable that all over whom her in-
fluence had prevailed had come to miserable and un-
timely ends; — not alone her husband and her son-in-
law, (both of whom had been as wax to her counsel,)
but such other chiefs as rank or ambition permitted

28 HAROLD

to appeal to her lore. Nevertheless, such was the as-
cendancy she had gained over the popular mind, that
it would have been dangerous in the highest degree
to put into execution against her the laws condemna-
tory of witchcraft. In her, all trie more powerful Dan-
ish families reverenced, and would have protected, the
blood of their ancient kings, and the widow of one of
their most renowned heroes. Hospitable, liberal, and
beneficent to the poor, and an easy mistress over nu-
merous ceorls, while the vulgar dreaded, they would
yet have defended her. Proofs of her art it would
have been hard to establish ; hosts of compurgators to
attest her innocence would have sprung up. Even if
subjected to the ordeal, her gold could easily have
bribed the priests with whom the power of evading its
dangers rested. And with that worldly wisdom which
persons of genius in their wildest chimeras rarely lack,
she had already freed herself from the chance of active
persecution from the Church, by ample donations to
all the neighbouring monasteries.

Hilda, in fine, was a woman of sublime desires and
extraordinary gifts; terrible, indeed, but as the passive
agent of the Fates she invoked, and rather command-
ing for herself a certain troubled admiration and mys-
terious pity; no fiend-hag, beyond humanity in malice
and in power, but essentially human, even when aspir-
ing most to the secrets of a god. Assuming, for the
moment, that by the aid of intense imagination, per-
sons of a peculiar idiosyncrasy of nerves and tempera-
ment might attain to such dim affinities with a world
beyond our ordinary senses, as forbid entire rejection
of the magnetism and magic of old times — it was on
no foul and mephitic pool, overhung with the poison-
ous nightshade, and excluded from the beams of

HAROLD 29

heaven, but on the living stream on which the star
trembled, and beside whose banks the green herbage
waved, that the demon shadows fell dark and dread.

Thus safe and thus awful, lived Hilda; and under
her care, a rose beneath the funeral cedar, bloomed
her grandchild Edith, goddaughter of the Lady of
England.

It was the anxious wish, both of Edward and his
virgin wife, pious as himself, to save this orphan from
the contamination of a house more than suspected of
heathen faith, and give to her youth the refuge of the
convent. But this, without her guardian's consent or
her own expressed will, could not be legally done; and
Edith as yet had expressed no desire to disobey her
grandmother, who treated the idea of the convent with
lofty scorn.

This beautiful child grew up under the influence,
as it were, of two contending creeds; all her notions
on both were necessarily confused and vague. But
her heart was so genuinely mild, simple, tender, and
devoted, — there was in her so much of the inborn ex-
cellence of the sex, that in every impulse of that heart
struggled for clearer light and for purer air the un-
quiet soul. In manner, in thought, and in person as
yet almost an infant, deep in her heart lay yet one
woman's secret, known scarcely to herself, but which
taught her, more powerfully than Hilda's proud and
scoffing tongue, to shudder at the thought of the bar-
ren cloister and the eternal vow.

30 HAROLD

CHAPTER III

While King Edward was narrating to the Norman
Duke all that he knew, and all that he knew not, of
Hilda's history and secret arts, the road wound
through lands as wild and wold-like as if the metrop-
olis of England lay a hundred miles distant. Even to
this day patches of such land, in the neighbourhood
of Norwood, may betray what the country was in the
old time : — when a mighty forest, " abounding with
wild beasts " — " the bull and the boar " — skirted the
suburbs of London, and afforded pastime to king and
thegn. For the Norman kings have been maligned
by the popular notion that assigns to them all the
odium of the forest laws. Harsh and severe were
those laws in the reign of the Anglo-Saxon; as harsh
and severe, perhaps, against the ceorl and the poor
man, as in the days of Rufus, though more mild un-
questionably to the nobles. To all beneath the rank
of abbot and thegn, the king's woods were made, even
by the mild Confessor, as sacred as the groves of the
Druids: and no less penalty than that of life was in-
curred by the lowborn huntsman who violated their
recesses.1

Edward's only mundane passion was the chase; and
a day rarely passed, but what after mass he went
forth with hawk or hound. So that, though the regu-
lar season for hawking did not commence till October,
he had ever on his wrist some young falcon to essay,
or some old favourite to exercise. And now, just as
William was beginning to grow weary of his good
cousin's prolix recitals, the hounds suddenly gave

1 See Note (B), at the end of the volume.

HAROLD 31

tongue, and from a sedge-grown pool by the way-
side, with solemn wing and harsh boom, rose a bittern.
" Holy St. Peter! " exclaimed the Saint-king, spur-
ring his palfrey, and loosing his famous Peregrine fal-
con.1 William was not slow in following that ani-
mated example, and the whole company rode at half
speed across the rough forest-land, straining their
eyes upon the soaring quarry, and the large wheels
of the falcons. Riding thus, with his eyes in the air,
Edward was nearly pitched over his palfrey's head,
as the animal stopped suddenly, checked by a high
gate, set deep in a half embattled wall of brick and
rubble. Upon this gate sate, quite unmoved and
apathetic, a tall ceorl, or labourer, while behind it was
a gazing curious group of men of the same rank, clad
in those blue tunics of which our peasant's smock is
the successor, and leaning on scythes and flails. Sour
and ominous were the looks they bent upon that Nor-
man cavalcade. The men were at least as well clad
as those of the same condition are now; and their ro-
bust limbs and ruddy cheeks showed no lack of the
fare that supports labour. Indeed, the working man
of that day, if not one of the absolute theowes or
slaves, was, physically speaking, better off, perhaps,
than he has ever since been in England, more espe-
cially if he appertained to some wealthy thegn of pure
Saxon lineage, whose very title of lord came to him
in his quality of dispenser of bread ; 2 and these men
had been ceorls under Harold, son of Godwin, now
banished from the land.

1 The Peregrine hawk built on the rocks of Llandudno, and
this breed was celebrated, even to the days of Elizabeth. Bur-
leigh thanks one of the Mostyns for a cast of hawks from
Llandudno.

2 Hlaf, loaf, — Hlaford, lord, giver of bread ; Hleafdian, lady,
server of bread. — VERSTEGAN.

32 HAROLD

" Open the gate, open quick, my merry men," said
the gentle Edward (speaking in Saxon, though with
a strong foreign accent), after he had recovered his
seat, murmured a benediction, and crossed himself
three times. The men stirred not.

" No horse tramps the seeds we have sown for Har-
old the Earl to reap ; " said the ceorl, doggedly, still
seated on the gate. And the group behind him gave
a shout of applause.

Moved more than ever he had been known to be
before, Edward spurred his steed up to the boor, and
lifted his hand. At that signal twenty swords flashed
in the air behind, as the Norman nobles spurred to the
place. Putting back with one hand his fierce attend-
ants, Edward shook the other at the Saxon. " Knave,
knave," he cried, " I would hurt you, if I could! "

There was something in these words, fated to drift
down into history, at once ludicrous and touching.
The Normans saw them only in the former light, and
turned aside to conceal their laughter; the Saxon felt
them in the latter and truer sense, and stood rebuked.
That great king, whom he now recognised, with all
those drawn swords at his back, could not do him
hurt; that king had not the heart to hurt him. The
ceorl sprang from the gate, and opened it, bending
low.

" Ride first, Count William, my cousin," said the
King, calmly.

The Saxon ceorl's eyes glared as he heard the Nor-
man's name uttered in the Norman tongue, but he
kept open the gate, and the train passed through, Ed-
ward lingering last Then said the King, in a low
voice, —

" Bold man, thou spokest of Harold the Earl and

HAROLD 33

his harvests; knowest thou not that his lands have
passed from him, and that he is outlawed, and that his
harvests are not for the scythes of his ceorls to reap? "

" May it please you, dread Lord and King," replied
the Saxon simply, " these lands that were Harold the
Earl's, are now Clapa's, the sixhaendman's."

"How is that?" quoth Edward, hastily; "we gave
them neither to sixhaendman nor to Saxon. All the
lands of Harold hereabout were divided amongst
sacred abbots and noble chevaliers — Normans all."

" Fulke the Norman had these fair fields, yon or-
chards and tynen; Fulke sold them to Clapa, the Earl's
sixhaendman, and what in mancusses and pence Clapa
lacked of the price, we, the ceorls of the Earl, made
up from our own earnings in the Earl's noble service.
And this very day, in token thereof, have we quaffed
the bedden-ale.1 Wherefore, please God and our
Lady, we hold these lands part and parcel with Clapa;
and when Earl Harold comes again, as come he will,
here at least he will have his own."

Edward, who, despite a singular simplicity of char-
acter, which at times seemed to border on imbecility,
was by no means wanting in penetration when his at-
tention was fairly roused, changed countenance at this
proof of rough and homely affection on the part of
these men to his banished earl and brother-in-law.
He mused a little while in grave thought, and then
said, kindly —

" Well, man, I think not the worse of you for loyal
love to your thegn, but there are those who would do

1 Bedden-ale. When any man was set up in his estate by
the contributions of his friends, those friends were bid to a
feast, and the ale so drunk was called the bedden-ale, from
bedden, to pray, or to bid. (See BRAND'S Pop. Antiq.)

VOL. I.— 3

34 HAROLD

so, and I advise you, brotherlike, that ears and nose
are in peril if thou talkest thus indiscreetly."

" Steel to steel, and hand to hand," said the Saxon,
bluntly, touching the long knife in his leathern belt,
" and he who sets gripe on Sexwolf son of Elfhelm,
shall pay his weregeld twice over."

" Forewarned, foolish man, thou art forewarned.
Peace," said the King; and, shaking his head, he rode
on to join the Normans, who now, in a broad field,
where the corn sprang green, and which they seemed
to delight in wantonly trampling, as they curvetted
their steeds to and fro, watched the movements of the
bittern and the pursuit of the two falcons.

"A wager, Lord King!" said a prelate, whose
strong family likeness to William proclaimed him to
be the Duke's bold and haughty brother, Odo,1 Bishop
of Bayeux; — "a wager. My steed to your palfrey
that the Duke's falcon first fixes the bittern."

" Holy father," answered Edward, in that slight
change of voice which alone showed his displeasure,
" these wagers all savour of heathenesse, and our can-
ons forbid them to mone 2 and priest. Go to, it is
naught."

The bishop, who brooked no rebuke, even from his
terrible brother, knit his brows, and was about to
make no gentle rejoinder, when William, whose pro-
found craft or sagacity was always at watch, lest his
followers should displease the King, interposed, and
taking the word out of the prelate's mouth, said:

" Thou reprovest us well, Sir and King; we Nor-

1 Herleve (Arlotta), William's mother, married Herluin de
Conteville, after the death of Duke Robert, and had by him
two sons, Robert, Count of Mortain, and Odo, Bishop of Bay-
eux.— ORD. VITAL, lib. vii.

2 Mone, monk.

HAROLD 35

mans are too inclined to such levities. And see, your
falcon is first in pride of place. By the bones of St.
Valery, how nobly he towers! See him cover the bit-
tern!— see him rest on the wing! — Down he swoops!
Gallant bird!"

" With his heart split in two on the bittern's bill,"
said the bishop; and down, rolling one over the other,
fell bittern and hawk, while William's Norway falcon,
smaller of size than the King's, descended rapidly, and
hovered over the two. Both were dead.

"I accept the omen," muttered the gazing Duke;
" let the natives destroy each other! " He placed his
whistle to his lips, and his falcon flew back to his
wrist.

" Now home," said King Edward.

CHAPTER IV

The royal party entered London by the great bridge
which divided Southwark from the capital; and we
must pause to gaze a moment on the animated scene
which the immemorial thoroughfare presented.

The whole suburb before entering Southwark was
rich in orchards and gardens, lying round the de-
tached houses of the wealthier merchants and citizens.
Approaching the river-side, to the left, the eye might
see the two circular spaces set apart, the one for bear,
the other for bull-baiting. To the right, upon a green
mound of waste, within sight of the populous bridge,
the gleemen were exercising their art. Here one
dexterous juggler threw three balls and three knives
alternately in the air, catching them one by one as

36 HAROLD

they fell.1 There, another was gravely leading a great
bear to dance on its hind legs, while his coadjutor kepf
time with a sort of flute or flageolet. The lazy by-
standers, in great concourse, stared and laughed; but
the laugh was hushed at the tramp of the Norman
steeds; and the famous Count by the King's side, as,
with a smiling lip, but observant eye, he rode along,
drew all attention from the bear.

On now approaching that bridge which, not many
years before, had been the scene of terrible contest
between the invading Danes and Ethelred's ally,
Olave of Norway,2 you might still see, though neg-
lected and already in decay, the double fortifications
that had wisely guarded that vista into the city. On
both sides of the bridge, which was of wood, were
forts, partly of timber, partly of stone, and breast-
works, and by the forts a little chapel. The bridge,
broad enough to admit two vehicles abreast,3 was
crowded with passengers, and lively with stalls and
booths. Here was the favourite spot of the popular
ballad-singer.* Here, too, might be seen the swarthy
Saracen, with wares from Spain and Afric.5 Here,

1 STRUTT'S Horda.

2 There is an animated description of this " Battle of Lon-
don Bridge," which gave ample theme to the Scandinavian
scalds, in Snorro SturTeson:

" London Bridge is broken down ;
Gold is won and bright renown;
Shields resounding,
War-horns sounding,
Hildur shouting in the din,
Arrows singing,
Mail- coats ringing,
Odin makes our Olaf win."

LAING'S Heimskringla, vol. ii. p. 10.
8 Sharon Turner.
4 Hawkins, vol. ii. p. 94.

8 Doomsday makes mention of the Moors, and the Germans
'(the Emperor's merchants) that, were sojourners or settlers

HAROLD 37

the German merchant from the Steel-yard swept along
on his way to his suburban home. Here, on some holy
office, went quick the muffled monk. Here, the city
gallant paused to laugh with the country girl, her bas-
ket full of May-boughs and cowslips. In short, all be-
spoke that activity, whether in business or pastime,
which was destined to render that city the mart of the
world, and which had already knit the trade of the
Anglo-Saxon to the remoter corners of commercial
Europe. The deep dark eye of William dwelt admir-
ingly on the bustling groups, on the broad river, and
the forest of masts which rose by the indented marge
near Belin's gate.1 And he to whom, whatever his
faults, or rather crimes, to the unfortunate people he
not only oppressed but deceived — London at least
may yet be grateful, not only for chartered franchise,"
but for advancing, in one short vigorous reign, her
commerce and wealth, beyond what centuries of
Anglo-Saxon domination, with its inherent feebleness,
had effected, exclaimed aloud:

in London. The Saracens at that time were among the great
merchants of the world ; Marseilles, Aries, Avignon, Mont-
pellier, Toulouse, were the wonted etapes of their active
traders. What civilisers, what teachers they were — those same
Saracens ! How much in arms and in arts we owe them !
Fathers of the Provencal poetry they, far more than even the
Scandinavian scalds, have influenced the literature of Chris-
tian Europe. The most ancient chronicle of the Cid was written
in Arabic, a little before the Cid's death, by two of his pages,
who were Mussulmans. The medical science of the Moors for
six centuries enlightened Europe, and their metaphysics were
adopted in nearly all the Christian universities.

1 Billingsgate. See Note (C), at the end of the volume.

2 London received a charter from William at the instigation
of the Norman Bishop of London ; but it probably only con-
firmed the previous municipal constitution, since it says briefly,
" I grant you all to be as law-worthy as ye were in the days
of King Edward." The rapid increase, however, of the com-
mercial prosperity and political importance of London after
the Conquest, is attested in many chronicles, and becomes
strikingly evident even on the surface of history.

38 HAROLD

" By rood and mass, O dear king, thy lot hath fallen
on a goodly heritage."

"Hem!" said Edward, lazily; " thou knowest not
how troublesome these Saxons are. And while thou
speakest, lo, in yon shattered walls, built first, they
say, by Alfred of holy memory, are the evidences of
the Danes. Bethink thee how often they have sailed
up this river. How know I but what the next year
the raven flag may stream over these waters? Magnus
of Denmark hath already claimed my crown as heir
to the royalties of Canute, and" (here Edward hesi-
tated), " Godwin and Harold, whom alone of my thegns
Dane and Northman fear, are far away."

" Miss not them, Edward, my cousin," cried the
Duke, in haste. " Send for me if danger threat thee.
Ships enow await thy hest in my new port of Cher-
bourg. And I tell thee this for thy comfort, that were
I king of the English, and lord of this river, the citi-
zens of London might sleep from vespers to prime,
without fear of the Dane. Never again should the
raven flag be seen by this bridge! Never, I swear, by
the Splendour Divine."

Not without purpose spoke William thus stoutly;
and he turned on the King those glittering eyes (mi-
cantes oculos), which the chroniclers have praised and
noted. For it was his hope and his aim in this visit,
that his cousin Edward should formally promise him
that goodly heritage of England. But the King made
no rejoinder, and they now neared the end of the
bridge.

" What old ruin looms yonder? " * asked William,

1 There seems good reason for believing that a keep did
stand where the Tower stands, before the Conquest, and that
William's edifice spared some of its remains. In the very in-
teresting letter from John Bayford relating to the city of Lon-

HAROLD 39

hiding his disappointment at Edward's silence ; " it
seemeth the remains of some stately keape, which, by
its fashion, I should pronounce Roman."

"Ay!" said Edward, "and it is said to have been
built by the Romans; and one of the old Lombard
freemasons employed on my new palace of Westmin-
ster, giveth that, and some others in my domain, the
name of the Juillet Tower."

" Those Romans were our masters in all things gal-
lant and wise," said William ; " and I predict that, some
day or other, on that site, a King of England will re-
erect palace and tower. And yon castle towards the
west? "

" Is the Tower Palatine, where our predecessors
have lodged, and ourself sometimes; but the sweet
loneliness of Thorney Isle pleaseth me more now."

Thus talking, they entered London, a rude, dark
city, built mainly of timbered houses; streets narrow
and winding; windows rarely glazed, but protected
chiefly by linen blinds; vistas opening, however, at
times into broad spaces, round the various convents,
where green trees grew up behind low palisades. Tall
roods, and holy images, to which we owe the names
of existing thoroughfares (Rood-lane and Lady-
lane J), where the ways crossed, attracted the curious
and detained the pious. Spires there were not then,
but blunt, cone-headed turrets, pyramidal, denoting
the Houses of God, rose often from the low, thatched,

don (Lei. Collect. Iviii.), the writer, a thorough master of his
subject, states that " the Romans made a public military way,
that of Watling Street, from the Tower to Ludgate, in a
straight line, at the end of which they built stations or citadels,
one of which was where the White Tower now stands." Bay-
ford adds that " when the White Tower was fitted up for the
reception of records, there remained many Saxon inscriptions."
1 Rude-lane. Lad-lane. — BAYFORD.

40 HAROLD

and reeded roofs. But every now and then, a schol-
ar's, if not an ordinary, eye could behold the relics of
Roman splendour, traces of that elder city which now
lies buried under our thoroughfares, and of which,
year by year, are dug up the stately skeletons.

Along the Thames still rose, though much mutilat-
ed, the wall of Constantine.1 Round the humble and
barbarous Church of St. Paul's (wherein lay the dust
of Sebba, that king of the East Saxons who quitted
his throne for the sake of Christ, and of Edward's
feeble and luckless father, Ethelred) might be seen,
still gigantic in decay, the ruins of the vast temple of
Diana.2 Many a church, and many a convent, pierced
their mingled brick and timber work with Roman cap-
ital and shaft. Still by the tower, to which was after-
wards given the Saracen name of Barbican, were the
wrecks of the Roman station, Vvhere cohorts watched
night and day, in case of fire within or foe without.8

In a niche, near the Aldersgate, stood the headless
statue'of Fortitude, which monks and pilgrims deemed
some unknown saint in the old time, and halted to
honour. And in the midst of Bishopsgate-street, sate
on his desecrated throne a mangled Jupiter, his eagle
at his feet. Many a half-converted Dane there lin-
gered, and mistook the Thunderer and the bird for
Odin and his hawk. By Leod-gate (the People's
gate*) still too were seen the arches of one of those
mighty aqueducts which the Roman learned from the
Etrurian. And close by the Still-yard, occupied by
" the Emperor's cheap men " (the German merchants),
stood, almost entire, the Roman temple, extant in the

1 Fitzstephen. * Camden.

3 BAYFORD, Lelanfs Collectanea, p. Ivifi.

* Ludgate ( Leod-gate ) . — VERSTECAK.

HAROLD 41

time of Geoffrey of Monmouth. Without the walls,
the old Roman vineyards l still put forth their green
leaves and crude clusters, in the plains of East Smith-
field, in the fields of St. Giles's, and on the site where
now stands Hatton Garden. Still massere 2 and cheap-
men chaffered and bargained, at booth and stall, in
Mart-lane, where the Romans had bartered before
them. With every encroachment on new soil, within
the walls and without, urn, vase, weapon, human bones,
were shovelled out, and lay disregarded amidst heaps
of rubbish.

Not on such evidences of the past civilisation looked
the practical eye of the Norman Count ; not on things,
but on men, looked he; and as silently he rode on from
street to street, out of those men, stalwart and tall,
busy, active, toiling, the Man-Ruler saw the Civilisa-
tion that was to come.

So, gravely through the small city, and over the
bridge that spanned the little river of the Fleet, rode
the train along the Strand; to the left, smooth sands;
to the right, fair pastures below green holts, thinly
studded with houses; over numerous cuts and inlets
running into the river, rode they on. • The hour and
the season were those in which youth enjoyed its holi-
day, and gay groups resorted to the then s fashionable
haunts of the Fountain of Holywell, " streaming forth
among glistening pebbles."

So they gained at length the village of Charing,
which Edward had lately bestowed on his Abbey of
Westminster, and which was now filled with work-
men, native and foreign, employed on that edifice and

1 See Note (D), at the end of the volume,

* Massere, merchant, mercer.

* Fitz Stephen.

42 HAROLD

the contiguous palace. Here they loitered awhile at
the Mews1 (where the hawks were kept), passed by
the rude palace of stone and rubble, appropriated to
the tributary kings of Scotland 2 — a gift from Edgar
to Kenneth — and finally, reaching the inlet of the
river, which, winding round the Isle of Thorney (now
Westminster), separated the rising church, abbey, and
palace of the Saint-king from the main-land, dis-
mounted— and were ferried across 8 the narrow stream
to the broad space round the royal residence.

CHAPTER V

The new palace of Edward the Confessor, the palace
of Westminster, opened its gates, to receive the Saxon
King and the Norman Duke, remounting on the mar-
gin of the isle, and now riding side by side. And as
the Duke glanced, from brows habitually knit, first
over the pile, stately, though not yet completed, with
its long rows of round arched windows, cased by in-
dented fringes and fraet (or tooth) work, its sweep of
solid columns with circling cloisters, and its ponder-
ous towers of simple grandeur; then over the groups
of courtiers, with close vests, and short mantles, and
beardless cheeks, that filled up the wide space, to gaze
in homage on the renowned guest, his heart swelled
within him, and, checking his rein, he drew near to his
brother of Bayeux, and whispered, —

1 Meuse. Apparently rather a hawk hospital, from Muta
(Camden). Du Fresne, in his Glossary, says, Muta is in
French Le Meue, and a disease to which the hawk was sub-
ject on changing its feathers.

2 Scotland-yard. — STRYPE.

3 The first bridge that connected Thorney Isle with the main-
land is said to have been built by Matilda, wife of Henry I.

HAROLD 43

" Is not this already the court of the Norman? Be-
hold yon nobles and earls, how they mimic our garb!
behold the very stones in yon gate, how they range
themselves, as if carved by the hand of the Norman
mason! Verily and indeed, brother, the shadow of
the rising sun rests already on these halls."

" Had England no people," said the bishop, " Eng-
land were yours already. But saw you not, as we
rode along, the lowering brows? and heard you not
the angry murmurs ? The villeins are many, and their
hate is strong."

"Strong is the roan I bestride," said the Duke;
" but a bold rider curbs it with the steel of the bit, and
guides it with the goad of the heel."

And now, as they neared the gate, a band of min-
strels in the pay of the Norman touched their instru-
ments, and woke their song — the household song of
the Norman — the battle hymn of Roland, the Paladin
of Charles the Great. At the first word of the song,
the Norman knights and youths profusely scattered
amongst the Normanised Saxons caught up the lay,
and with sparkling eyes, and choral voices, they wel-
comed the mighty Duke into the palace of the last
meek successor of Woden.

By the porch of the inner court the Duke flung him-
self from his saddle, and held the stirrup for Edward
to dismount. The King placed his hand gently on his
guest's broad shoulder, and, having somewhat slowly
reached the ground, embraced and kissed him in the
sight of the gorgeous assemblage ; then led him by the
hand towards the fair chamber which was set apart for
the Duke, and so left him to his attendants.

William, lost in thought, suffered himself to be dis-
robed in silence; but when Fitzosborne, his favourite

44 HAROLD

confidant and haughtiest baron, who yet deemed him-
self but honoured by personal attendance on his chief,
conducted him towards the bath, which adjoined the
chamber, he drew back, and wrapping round him more
closely the gown of fur that had been thrown over his
shoulders, he muttered low, — " Nay, if there be on me
yet one speck of English dust, let it rest there! — seizin,
Fitzosborne, seizin, of the English land." Then, wav-
ing his hand, he dismissed all his attendants except
Fitzosborne, and Rolf, Earl of Hereford,1 nephew to
Edward, but French on the father's side, and thor-
oughly in the Duke's councils. Twice the Duke paced
the chamber without vouchsafing a word to either,
then paused by the round window that overlooked the
Thames. The scene was fair; the sun, towards its de-
cline, glittered on numerous small pleasure-boats,
which shot to and fro between Westminster and Lon-
don or towards the opposite shores of Lambeth. His
eye sought eagerly, along the curves of the river, the
grey remains of the fabled Tower of Julius, and the
walls, gates, and turrets, that rose by the stream, or
above the dense mass of silent roofs; then it strained
hard to descry the tops of the more distant masts of
the infant navy, fostered under Alfred, the far-seeing,
for the future civilisation of wastes unknown, and the
empire of seas untracked.

The Duke breathed hard, and opened and closed the
hand which he stretched forth into space as if to grasp
the city he beheld. " Rolf," said he, abruptly, " thou
knowest, no doubt, the wealth of the London traders,
one and all; for, foi de Guillaume, my gentil chevalier,

1 We give him that title, which this Norman noble generally
bears in the Chronicles, though Palgrave observes that he is
rather to be styled Earl of the Magesetan (the Welch Marches).

HAROLD 45

thou art a true Norman, and scentest the smell of gold
as a hound the boar! "

Rolf smiled, as if pleased with a compliment which
simpler men might have deemed, at the best, equivo-
cal, and replied:

" It is true, my liege ; and gramercy, the air of Eng-
land sharpens the scent; for in this villein and motley
country, made up of all races, — Saxon and Fin, Dane
and Fleming, Pict and Walloon, — it is not as with us,
where the brave man and the pure descent are held
chief in honour: here, gold and land are, in truth, name
and lordship; even their popular name for their na-
tional assembly of the Witan is, ' The Wealthy.' l He
who is but a ceorl to-day, let him be rich, and he may
be earl to-morrow, marry in king's blood, and rule
armies under a gonfanon statelier than a king's ; while
he whose fathers were ealdermen and princes, if, by
force or by fraud, by waste or by largess, he become
poor, falls at once into contempt, and out of his state,
— sinks into a class they call ' six-hundred men,' in
their barbarous tongue, and his children will prob-
ably sink still lower, into ceorls. Wherefore gold is
the thing here most coveted; and by St. Michael, the
sin is infectious."

William listened to the speech with close attention.

" Good," said he, rubbing slowly the palm of his
right hand over the back of the left ; " a land all com-
pact with the power of one race, a race of conquering
men, as our fathers were, whom nought but cowardice
or treason can degrade, — such a land, O Rolf of Here-
ford, it were hard indeed to subjugate, or decoy, or
tame—"

" So has my lord the Duke found the Bretons; and
1 Eadigan. — S. TURNEA, vol. i. p. 274.

46 HAROLD

so also do I find the Welch upon my marches of Here-
ford."

" But," continued William, not heeding the inter-
ruption, " where wealth is more than blood and race,
chiefs may be bribed or menaced; and the multitude
— by'r Lady, the multitude are the same in all lands,
mighty under valiant and faithful leaders, powerless
as sheep without them. But to my question, my gen-
tle Rolf; this London must be rich? " 1

" Rich enow," answered Rolf, " to coin into armed
men, that should stretch from Rouen to Flanders on
the one hand, and Paris on the other."

" In the veins of Matilda, whom thou wooest for
wife," said Fitzosborne, abruptly, " flows the blood of
Charlemagne. God grant his empire to the children
she shall bear thee! "

The Duke bowed his head, and kissed a relic sus-
pended from his throat. Farther sign of approval of
his counsellor's words he gave not, but after a pause,
he said:

" When I depart, Rolf, thou wendest back to thy
marches. These Welch are brave and fierce, and
shape work enow for thy hands."

" Ay, by my halidame ! poor sleep by the side of the
beehive you have stricken down."

" Marry, then," said William, " let the Welch prey
on Saxon, Saxon on Welch; let neither win too easily.
Remember our omens to-day, Welch hawk and Saxon
bittern, and over their corpses, Duke William's Nor-
way falcon ! Now dress we for the complin 2 and the
banquet."

1 The comparative wealth of London was indeed consider-
able. When, in 1018, all the rest of England was taxed to an
amount considered stupendous, viz., 71,000 Saxon pounds,
London contributed 11,000 pounds besides..

2 Complin, the second vespers.

BOOK II

LANFRANC THE SCHOLAR

CHAPTER I

Four meals a day, nor those sparing, were not
deemed too extravagant an interpretation of the daily
bread for which the Saxon prayed. Four meals a day,
from earl to ceorl ! " Happy times 1 " may sigh the
descendant of the last, if he read these pages; partly so
they were for the ceorl, but not in all things, for never
sweet is the food, and never gladdening is the drink,
of servitude. Inebriety, the vice of the warlike na-
tions of the North, had not, perhaps, been the pre-
eminent excess of the earlier Saxons, while yet the
active and fiery Britons, and the subsequent petty wars
between the kings of the Heptarchy, enforced on
hardy warriors the safety of temperance; but the ex-
ample of the Danes had been fatal. Those giants of
the sea, like all who pass from great vicissitudes of
toil and repose, from the tempest to the haven,
snatched with full hands every pleasure in their reach.
With much that tended permanently to elevate the
character of the Saxon, they imparted much for a time
to degrade it. The Anglian learned to feast to reple-
tion, and drink to delirium. But such were not the
vices of the court of the Confessor. Brought up from
his youth in the cloister-camp of the Normans, what
he loved in their manners was the abstemious sobriety,

47

48 HAROLD

and the ceremonial religion, which distinguished those
sons of the Scandinavian from all other kindred tribes.

The Norman position in France, indeed, in much
resembled that of the Spartan in Greece. He had
forced a settlement with scanty numbers in the midst
of a subjugated and sullen population, surrounded by
jealous and formidable foes. Hence sobriety was a
condition of his being, and the policy of the chief lent
a willing ear to the lessons of the preacher. Like the
Spartan, every Norman of pure race was free and
noble; and this consciousness inspired not only that
remarkable dignity of mien which Spartan and Nor-
man alike possessed, but also that fastidious self-
respect which would have revolted from exhibiting a
spectacle of debasement to inferiors. And, lastly, as
the paucity of their original numbers, the perils that
beset, and the good fortune that attended them, served
to render the Spartans the most religious of all the
Greeks in their dependence on the Divine aid ; so, per-
haps, to the same causes may be traced the proverbial
piety of the ceremonial Normans; they carried into
their new creed something of feudal loyalty to their
spiritual protectors; did homage to the Virgin for the
lands that she vouchsafed to bestow, and recognised
in St. Michael the chief who conducted their armies.

After hearing the complin vespers in the temporary
chapel fitted up in that unfinished abbey of Westmin-
ster, which occupied the site of the temple of Apollo,1
the King and his guests repaired to their evening meal

1 CAMDEN — A church was built out of the ruins of that tem-
ple by Sibert, King of the East Saxons ; and Canute favoured
much the small monastery attached to it (originally established
by Dunstan for twelve Benedictines), on account of its Abbot
Wulnoth, whose society pleased him. The old palace of Canute,
in Thorney Isle, had been destroyed by fire.

HAROLD 49

in the great hall of the palace. Below the dais were
ranged three long tables for the knights in William's
train, and that flower of the Saxon nobility who, fond,
like all youth, of change and imitation, thronged the
court of their Normanised saint, and scorned the rude
patriotism of their fathers. But hearts truly English
were not there. Yea, many of Godwin's noblest foes
sighed for the English-hearted Earl, banished by Nor-
man guile on behalf of English law.

At the oval table on the dais the guests were select
and chosen. At the right hand of the King sat Will-
iam; at the left Odo of Bayeux. Over these three
stretched a canopy of cloth of gold; the chairs on
which each sate were of metal, richly gilded over, and
the arms carved in elaborate arabesques. At this table
too was the King's nephew, the Earl of Hereford, and,
in right of kinsmanship to the Duke, the Norman's
beloved baron and grand seneschal, William Fitzos-
borne, who, though in Normandy even he sate not at
the Duke's table, was, as related to his lord, invited
by Edward to his own. No other guests were admit-
ted to this board, so that, save Edward, all were Nor-
man. The dishes were of gold and silver, the cups
inlaid with jewels. Before each guest was a knife, with
hilt adorned by precious stones, and a napkin fringed
with silver. The meats were not placed on the table,
but served upon small spits, and between every course
a basin of perfumed water was borne round by high-
born pages. No dame graced the festival ; for she who
should have presided — she, matchless for beauty with-
out pride, piety without asceticism, and learning with-
out pedantry — she, the pale rose of England, loved
daughter of Godwin, and loathed wife of Edward, had
shared in the fall of her kindred, and had been sent
VOL. I.— 4

50 HAROLD

by the meek King, or his fierce counsellors, to an
abbey in Hampshire, with the taunt " that it was not
meet that the child and sister should enjoy state and
pomp, while the sire and brethren ate the bread of the
stranger in banishment and disgrace."

But, hungry as were the guests, it was not the cus-
tom of that holy court to fall to without due religious
ceremonial. The rage for psalm-singing was then at
its height in England; psalmody had excluded almost
every other description of vocal music; and it is even
said that great festivals on certain occasions were pre-
luded by no less an effort of lungs and memory than
the entire songs bequeathed to us by King David!
This day, however, Hugoline, Edward's Norman
chamberlain, had been pleased to abridge the length
of the prolix grace, and the company were let off, to
Edward's surprise and displeasure, with the curt and
unseemly preparation of only nine psalms and one spe-
cial hymn in honour of some obscure saint to whom
the day was dedicated. This performed, the guests re-
sumed their seats, Edward murmuring an apology to
William for the strange omission of his chamberlain,
and saying thrice to himself, " Naught, naught — very
naught."

The mirth languished at the royal table, despite
some gay efforts from Rolf, and some hollow attempts
at light-hearted cheerfulness from the great Duke,
whose eyes, wandering down the table, were endeav-
ouring to distinguish Saxon from Norman, and count
how many of the first might already be reckoned in
the train of his friends. But at the long tables below,
as the feast thickened, and ale, mead, pigment, morat,
and wine circled round, the tongue of the Saxon was
loosed, and the Norman knight lost somewhat of his

HAROLD 51

superb gravity. It was just as what a Danish poet
called the " sun of the night," (in other words, the
fierce warmth of the wine,) had attained its meridian
glow, that some slight disturbance at the doors of the
hall, without which waited a dense crowd of the poor
on whom the fragments of the feast were afterwards
to be bestowed, was followed by the entrance of two
strangers, for whom the officers appointed to marshal
the entertainment made room at the foot of one of the
tables. Both these new-comers were clad with ex-
treme plainness; one in a dress, though not quite mo-
nastic, that of an ecclesiastic of low degree; the other
in a long grey mantle and loose gonna, the .train of
which last was tucked into a broad leathern belt, leav-
ing bare the leggings, which showed limbs of great
bulk and sinew, and which were stained by the dust
and mire of travel. The first mentioned was slight
and small of person ; the last was of the height and port
of the sons of Anak. The countenance of neither
could be perceived, for both had let fall the hood, worn
by civilians as by priests out of doors, more than half
way over their faces.

A murmur of great surprise, disdain, and resent-
ment, at the intrusion of strangers so attired circulated
round the neighbourhood in which they had been
placed, checked for a moment by a certain air of re-
spect which the officer had shown towards both, but
especially the taller; but breaking out with greater
vivacity from the faint restraint, as the tall man un-
ceremoniously stretched across the board, drew tow-
ards himself an immense flagon, which (agreeably to
the custom of arranging the feast in " messes " of four)
had been specially appropriated to Ulf the Dane, God-
rith the Saxon, and two young Norman knights akin

52 HAROLD

to the puissant Lord of Grantmesnil, — and having
offered it to his comrade, who shook his head, drained
it with a gusto that seemed to bespeak him at least no
Norman, and wiped his lips boorishly with the sleeve
of his huge arm.

" Dainty sir," said one of those Norman knights,
William Mallet, of the house of Mallet de Graville,1
as he moved as far from the gigantic intruder as the
space on the settle would permit, " forgive the observa-
tion that you have damaged my mantle, you have
grazed my foot, and you have drunk my wine. And
vouchsafe, if it so please you, the face of the man who
hath done this triple wrong to William Mallet de Gra-
ville."

A kind of laugh — for laugh absolute it was not —
rattled under the cowl of the tall stranger, as he drew
it still closer over his face, with a hand that might
have spanned the breast of his interrogator, and he
made a gesture as if he did not understand the ques-
tion addressed to him.

Therewith the Norman knight, bending with demure
courtesy across the board to Godrith the Saxon, said:

" Pardex? but this fair guest and seigneur seemeth
to me, noble Godree (whose name I fear my lips do
but rudely enounce) of Saxon line and language; our
Romance tongue he knoweth not. Pray you, is it the
Saxon custom to enter a king's hall so garbed, and
drink a knight's wine so mutely? "

Godrith, a young Saxon of considerable rank, but
one of the most sedulous of the imitators of the for-

1 See note to PLUQUET'S Roman de Rou, p. 285.

N.B. — Whenever the Roman de Rou is quoted in these pages
it is from the excellent edition of M. Pluquet.

2 Pardex or Parde, corresponding to the modern French
expletive, pardie.

HAROLD 53

eign fashions, coloured high at the irony in the
knight's speech, and turning rudely to the huge guest,
who was now causing immense fragments of pasty to
vanish under the cavernous cowl, he said in his native
tongue, though with a lisp as if unfamiliar to him* —

" If thou beest Saxon, shame us not with thy
ceorlish manners; crave pardon of this Norman thegn,
who will doubtless yield it to thee in pity. Uncover
thy face — and —

Here the Saxon's rebuke was interrupted; for one
of the servitors just then approaching Godrith's side
with a spit, elegantly caparisoned with some score of
plump larks, the unmannerly giant stretched out his
arm within an inch of the Saxon's startled nose, and
possessed himself of larks, broche, and all. He drew
off two, which he placed on his friend's platter, despite
all dissuasive gesticulations, and deposited the rest
upon his own. The young banqueters gazed upon the
spectacle in wrath too full for words.

At last spoke Mallet de Graville, with an envious eye
upon the larks — for though a Norman was not glut-
tonous, he was epicurean — " Certes, and foi de cheva-
lier! a man must go into strange parts if he wish to see
monsters; but we are fortunate people," (and he turned
to his Norman friend, Aymer, Quen 1 or Count,
D'Evreux,) " that we have discovered Polyphemus
without going so far as Ulysses ; " and pointing to the
hooded giant, he quoted, appropriately enough,

" Monstrum, horrendum, informe, ingens, cui lumen ademp-
tum."

1 Quen, or rather Quens; synonymous with Count in the
Norman Chronicles. Earl Godwin is strangely styled by Wace,
Quens Gurine.

54 HAROLD

The giant continued to devour his larks, as compla-
cently as the ogre to whom he was likened might have
devoured the Greeks in his cave. But his fellow in-
truder seemed agitated by the sound of the Latin; he
lifted up his head suddenly, and showed lips glistening
with white even teeth, and curved into an approving
smile, while he said : " Bene, my fill! bene, lepidissime,
poetce verba, in militis ore, nan indecora sonant" 1

The young Norman stared at the speaker, and re-
plied, in the same tone of grave affectation : " Courte-
ous sir! the approbation of an ecclesiastic so eminent
as I take you to be, from the modesty with which you
conceal your greatness, cannot fail to draw upon me
the envy of my English friends; who are accustomed
to swear in verba magistri, only for verba they learn-
edly substitute vina"

" You are pleasant, Sire Mallet," said Godrith, red-
dening; " but I know well that Latin is only fit for
monks and shavelings ; and little enow even they have
to boast of."

The Norman's lip curled in disdain. " Latin ! — O,
Godree, bien aime! — Latin is the tongue of Caesars and
senators, fortes conquerors and preux chevaliers.
Knowest thou not that Duke William the dauntless
at eight years old had the comments of Julius Caesar
by heart? — and that it is his saying, that ' a king with-
out letters is a crowned ass ? ' * When the king is an
ass, asinine are his subjects. Wherefore go to school,
speak respectfully of thy betters, the monks and shave-
lings, who with us are often brave captains and sage

1 " Good, good, pleasant son, — the words of the poet sound
gracefully on the lips of the knight."

2 A sentiment variously assigned to William and to his son
Henry the Beau Clerc.

HAROLD 55

councillors, — and learn that a full head makes a
weighty hand."

"Thy name, young knight?" said the ecclesiastic,
in Norman French, though with a slight foreign ac-
cent.

" I can give it thee," said the giant, speaking aloud
for the first time, in the same language, and in a rough
voice, which a quick ear might have detected as dis-
guised,— " I can describe to thee name, birth, and
quality. By name, this youth is Guillaume Mallet,
sometimes styled De Graville, because our Norman
gentilhommes, forsooth, must always now have a ' de '
tacked to their names; nevertheless he hath no other
right to the seigneurie of Graville, which appertains
to the head of his house, than may be conferred by an
old tower on one corner of the demesnes so desig-
nated, with lands that would feed one horse and two
villeins — if they were not in pawn to a Jew for moneys
to buy velvet mantelines and a chain of gold. By
birth, he comes from Mallet,1 a bold Norwegian in the
fleet of Rou the Sea-king; his mother was a Frank
woman, from whom he inherits his best possessions —
videlicet, a shrewd wit, and a railing tongue. His qual-
ities are abstinence, for he eateth nowhere save at the
cost of another — some Latin, for he was meant for a
monk, because he seemed too slight of frame for a war-
rior— some courage, for in spite of his frame he slew
three Burgundians with his own hand; and Duke Will-
iam, among their foolish acts, spoilt a friar sans tache,
by making a knight sans terre; and for the rest — "

" And for the rest," interrupted the Sire de Gra-
ville, turning white with wrath, but speaking in a low
repressed voice, " were it not that Duke William sate
1 Mallet is a genuine Scandinavian name to this day.

56 HAROLD

yonder, thou shouldst have six inches oi cold steel in
thy huge carcase to digest thy stolen dinner, and
silence thy unmannerly tongue. — "

" For the rest," continued the giant indifferently,
and as if he had not heard the interruption; " for the
rest, he only resembles Achilles, in being impiger ira-
cundus. Big men can quote Latin as well as little
ones, Messire Mallet the beau clerc! "

Mallet's hand was on his dagger; and his eye dilated
like that of the panther before he springs; but fortu-
nately, at that moment, the deep sonorous voice of
William, accustomed to send its sounds down the
ranks of an army, rolled clear through the assem-
blage, though pitched little above its ordinary key: —

" Fair is your feast, and bright your wine, Sir King
and brother mine! But I miss here what king and
knight hold as the salt of the feast and the perfume to
the wine: the lay of the minstrel. Beshrew me, but
both Saxon and Norman are of kindred stock, and
love to hear in hall and bower the deeds of their north-
ern fathers. Crave I therefore from your gleemen, or
harpers, some song of the olden time! "

A murmur of applause went through the Norman
part of the assembly; the Saxons looked up; and some
of the more practised courtiers sighed wearily, for they
knew well what ditties alone were in favour with the
saintly Edward.

The low voice of the King in reply was not heard,
but those habituated to read his countenance in its
very faint varieties of expression, might have seen that
it conveyed reproof; and its purport soon became
practically known, when a lugubrious prelude was
heard from a quarter of the hall, in which sate cer-
tain ghost -like musicians in white robes — white as

HAROLD 57

winding-sheets; and forthwith a dolorous and dirgelike
voice chanted a long and most tedious recital of the
miracles and martyrdom of some early saint. So mo-
notonous was the chant, that its effect soon became
visible in a general drowsiness. And when Edward,
who alone listened with attentive delight, turned tow-
ards the close to gather sympathising admiration
from his distinguished guests, he saw his nephew
yawning as if his jaw were dislocated — the Bishop of
Bayeux, with his well-ringed fingers interlaced and
resting on his stomach, fast asleep — Fitzosborne's half-
shaven head balancing to and fro with many an uneasy
start — and, William, wide awake indeed, but with eyes
fixed on vacant space, and his soul far away from the
gridiron to which (all other saints be praised!) the saint
of the ballad had at last happily arrived.

" A comforting and salutary recital, Count Will-
iam," said the King.

The Duke started from his reverie, and bowed his
head: then said, rather abruptly, " Is not yon blazon
that of King Alfred?"

"Yea. Wherefore?"

"Hem! Matilda of Flanders is in direct descent
from Alfred: it is a name and a line the Saxons yet
honour! "

" Surely, yes ; Alfred was a great man, and reformed
the Psalmster," replied Edward.

The dirge ceased, but so benumbing had been its
effect, that the torpor it created did not subside with
the cause. There was a dead and funereal silence
throughout the spacious hall, when suddenly, loudly,
mightily, as the blast of the trumpet upon the hush of
the grave, rose a single voice. All started — all turned
— all looked to one direction; and they saw that the

58 HAROLD

great voice pealed from the farthest end of the hall.
From under his gown the gigantic stranger had drawn
a small three-stringed instrument — somewhat resem-
bling the modern lute — and thus he sang, —

THE BALLAD OF ROU *

i.
From Blois to Senlis, wave by wave, roll'd on the Norman

flood,
And Frank on Frank went drifting down the weltering tide

of blood ;

There was not left in all the land a castle wall to fire,
And not a wife but wailed a lord, a child but mourned a sire.
To Charles the king, the mitred monks, the mailed barons flew,
While, shaking earth, behind them strode the thunder march

of Rou.

ii.
" O King," then cried those barons bold, " in vain are mace

and mail,

We fall before the Norman axe, as corn before the hail."
" And vainly," cried the pious monks, " by Mary's shrine we

kneel,
For prayers, like arrows, glance aside, against the Norman

steel."
The barons groaned, the shavelings wept, while near and nearer

drew,
As death-birds round their scented feast, the raven flags of

Rou.

in.
Then said King Charles, " Where thousands fail, what king

can stand alone,
The strength of kings is in the men that gather round the

throne.

When war dismays my barons bold, 'tis time for war to cease ;
When Heaven forsakes my pious monks, the will of Heaven

is peace.

1 Rou — the name given by the French to Rollo, or Rolf-
ganger, the founder of the Norman settlement.

HAROLD 59

Go forth, my monks, with mass and rood the Norman camp

unto,
And to the fold, with shepherd crook, entice this grisly Rou.

IV.

" I'll give him all the ocean coast, from Michael Mount to Eure,
And Gille, my child, shall be his bride, to bind him fast and

sure:
Let him but kiss the Christian cross, and sheathe the heathen

sword,

And hold the lands I cannot keep, a fief from Charles his lord."
Forth went the pastors of the Church, the Shepherd's work

to do,
And wrap the golden fleece around the tiger loins of Rou :

v.

Psalm-chanting came the shaven monks, within the camp of

dread ;

Amidst his warriors, Norman Rou stood taller by the head.
Out spoke the Frank Archbishop then, a priest devout and

sage,
" When peace and plenty wait thy word, what need of war

and rage?

Why waste a land as fair as aught beneath the arch of blue,
Which might be thine to sow and reap? — Thus saith the King

to Rou:

VI.

" ' I'll give thee all the ocean coast, from Michael Mount to
Eure,

And Gille, my fairest child, as bride, to bind thee fast and sure ;

If thou but kneel to Christ our God, and sheathe thy paynim
sword,

And hold thy land, th« Church's son, a fief from Charles thy
lord.' "

The Norman on his warriors looked — to counsel they with-
drew;

The saints took pity on the Franks, and moved the soul of Rou.

vn.

So back he strode and thus he spoke, to that Archbishop meek :
" I take the land thy king bestows from Eure to Michael-peak,

60 HAROLD

I take the maid, or foul or fair, a bargain with the toast,
And for thy creed, a sea-king's gods are those that give the

most.

So hie thee back, and tell thy chief to make his proffer true,
And he shall find a docile son, and ye a saint in Rou."

VIII.

So o'er the border stream of Epte came Rou the Norman,
where,

Begirt with barons, sat the King, enthroned at green St. Clair;

He placed his hand in Charles's hand, — loud shouted all the
throng,

But tears were in King Charles's eyes — the grip of Rou was
strong.

" Now kiss the foot," the Bishop said, " that homage still is
due ; "

Then dark the frown and stern the smile of that grim con-
vert, Rou.

IX.

He takes the foot, as if the foot to slavish lips to bring ;

The Normans scowl ; he tilts the throne, and backwards falls

the King.
Loud laugh the joyous Norman men — pale stare the Franks

aghast ;
And Rou lifts up his head as from the wind springs up the

mast;

" I said I would adore a God, but not a mortal too;
The foot that fled before a foe let cowards kiss ! " said Rou.

No words can express the excitement which this
rough minstrelsy — marred as it is by our poor trans-
lation from the Romance-tongue in which it was
chanted — produced amongst the Norman guests; less
perhaps, indeed, the song itself, than the recognition
of the minstrel; and as he closed, from more than a
hundred voices came the loud murmur, only subdued
from a shout by the royal presence, " Taillefer, our
Norman Taillefer ! "

HAROLD 61

" By our joint saint, Peter, my cousin the King,"
exclaimed William, after a frank cordial laugh ; " Well
I wot, no tongue less free than my warrior minstrel's
could have so shocked our ears. Excuse his bold
theme, for the sake of his bold heart, I pray thee; and
since I know well " (here the Duke's face grew grave
and anxious) " that nought save urgent and weighty
news from my stormy realm could have brought over
this rhyming petrel, permit the officer behind me to
lead hither a bird, I fear, of omen as well as of song."

" Whatever pleases thee, pleases me," said Edward,
drily; and he gave the order to the attendant. In a
few moments, up the space in the hall, between either
table, came the large stride of the famous minstrel,
preceded by the officer and followed by the ecclesias-
tic. The hoods of both were now thrown back, and
discovered countenances in strange contrast, but each
equally worthy of the attention it provoked. The
face of the minstrel was open and sunny as the day;
and that of the priest, dark and close as night. Thick
curls of deep auburn (the most common colour for the
locks of the Norman) wreathed in careless disorder
round Taillefer's massive unwrinkled brow. His eye,
of light hazel, was bold and joyous; mirth, though sar-
castic and sly, mantled round his lips. His whole pres-
ence was at once engaging and heroic.

On the other hand, the priest's cheek was dark and
sallow; his features singularly delicate and refined; his
forehead high, but somewhat narrow, and crossed with
lines of thought; his mien composed, modest, but not
without calm self-confidence. Amongst that assem-
bly of soldiers, noiseless, self-collected, and conscious
of his surpassing power over swords and mail, moved
the SCHOLAR.

62 HAROLD

William's keen eye rested on the priest with some
surprise, not unmixed with pride and ire; but first ad-
dressing Taillefer, who now gained the foot of the dais,
he said, with a familiarity almost fond:

" Now, by're Lady, if thou bringest not ill news, thy
gay face, man, is pleasanter to mine eyes than thy rough
song to my ears. Kneel, Taillefer, kneel to King Ed-
ward, and with more address, rogue, than our unlucky
countryman to King Charles."

But Edward, as ill-liking the form of the giant as
the subject of his lay, said, pushing back his seat as far
as he could :

" Nay, nay, we excuse thee, we excuse thee, tall
man." Nevertheless, the minstrel still knelt, and so,
with a look of profound humility, did the priest. Then
both slowly rose, and at a sign from the Duke, passed
to the other side of the table, standing behind Fitz-
osborne's chair.

" Clerk," said William, eyeing deliberately the sallow
face of the ecclesiastic ; " I know thee of old ; and if the
Church have sent me an envoy, per la resplendar De,
it should have sent me at least an abbot."

" Hein, hein! " said Taillefer, bluntly, " vex not my
bon camarade, Count of the Normans. Gramercy, thou
wilt welcome him, peradventure, better than me; for
the singer tells but of discord, and the sage may re-
store the harmony."

' "Ha!" said the Duke, and the frown fell so dark
over his eyes that the last seemed only visible by two
sparks of fire. " I guess, my proud Vavasours are
mutinous. Retire, thou and thy comrade. Await me
in my chamber. The feast shall not flag in London
because the wind blows a gale in Rouen."

The two envoys, since so they seemed, bowed in
silence and withdrew.

HAROLD 63

" Nought of ill-tidings, I trust," said Edward, who
had not listened to the whispered communications that
had passed between the Duke and his subjects. " No
schism in thy Church? The clerk seemed a peaceful
man, and a humble."

" An there were schism in my Church," said the
fiery Duke, " my brother of Bayeux would settle it by
arguments as close as the gap between cord and
throttle."

"Ah! thou art, doubtless, well read in the canons,
holy Odo! " said the King, turning to the bishop with
more respect than he had yet evinced towards that
gentle prelate.

" Canons, yes, Seigneur, I draw them up myself for
my flock conformably with such interpretations of the
Roman Church as suit best with the Norman realm:
and woe to deacon, monk, or abbot, who chooses to
misconstrue them." l

The bishop looked so truculent and menacing, while
his fancy thus conjured up the possibility of heretical
dissent, that Edward shrank from him as he had done
from Taillefer; and in a few minutes after, on exchange
of signals between himself and the Duke, who, im-
patient to escape, was too stately to testify that desire,
the retirement of the royal party broke up the ban-
quet ; save, indeed, that a few of the elder Saxons, and
more incorrigible Danes, still steadily kept their seats,
and were finally dislodged from their later settlements
on the stone floors, to find themselves, at dawn, care-

1 Pious severity to the heterodox was a Norman virtue.
William of Poictiers says of William, " One knows with what
zeal he pursued and exterminated those who thought differ-
ently;" i.e., on transubstantiation. But the wise Norman,
while flattering the tastes of the Roman Pontiff in such matters,
took special care to preserve the independence of his Church
from any undue dictation.

64 HAROLD

fully propped in a row against the outer walls of the
palace, with their patient attendants, holding links, and
gazing on their masters with stolid envy, if not of the
repose at least of the drugs that had caused it.

CHAPTER II

"And now," said William, reclining on a long and
narrow couch, with raised carved work all round it like
a box (the approved fashion of a bed in those days),
" now, Sire Taillefer — thy news."

There were then in the Duke's chamber, the Count
Fitzosborne, Lord of Breteuil, surnamed " the Proud
Spirit " — who, with great dignity, was holding before
the brazier the ample tunic of linen (called dormitorium
in the Latin of that time, and night-rail in the Saxon
tongue) in which his lord was to robe his formidable
limbs for repose,1 — Taillefer, who stood erect before
the Duke as a Roman sentry at his post,' — and the
ecclesiastic, a little apart, with arms gathered under
his gown, and his bright dark eyes fixed on the
ground.

" High and puissant, my liege," then said Taillefer,
gravely, and with a shade of sympathy on his large
face, " my news is such as is best told briefly: Bunaz,
Count d'Eu and descendant of Richard Sanspeur, hath
raised the standard of revolt."

" Go on," said the Duke, clenching his hand.

" Henry, King of the French, is treating with the

1 A few generations later this comfortable and decent fashion
oi night-gear was abandoned; and our forefathers, Saxon
and Norman, went to bed in puris naturalibus, like the Lap-
landers.

HAROLD 65

rebel, and stirring up mutiny in thy realm, and pre-
tenders to thy throne."

" Ha! " said the Duke, and his lip quivered; " this is
not all."

" No, my liege ! and the worst is to come. Thy
uncle Mauger, knowing that thy heart is bent on thy
speedy nuptials with the high and noble damsel, Ma-
tilda of Flanders, has broken out again in thine ab-
sence— is preaching against thee in hall and from
pulpit. He declares that such espousals are incestu-
ous, both as within the forbidden degrees, and inas-
much as Adele, the lady's mother, was betrothed to
thine uncle Richard; and Mauger menaces excommu-
nication if my liege pursues his suit! l So troubled is
the realm, that I, waiting not for debate in council,
and fearing sinister ambassage if I did so, took ship
from thy port of Cherbourg, and have not flagged rein,
and scarce broken bread, till I could say to the heir
of Rolf the Founder — Save thy realm from the men of
mail, and thy bride from the knaves in serge."

"Ho, ho!" cried William; then bursting forth in
full wrath, as he sprang from the couch. " Hearest
thou this, Lord Seneschal? Seven years, the proba-
tion of the patriarch, have I wooed and waited; and
\o, in the seventh, does a proud priest say to me,
'Wrench the love from thy heart-strings!' — Excom-

1 Most of the chroniclers merely state the parentage within
rtie forbidden degrees as the obstacle to William's marriage
with Matilda; but the betrothal or rather nuptials of her
mother Adele with Richard III. (though never consummated),
appears to have been the true canonical objection. — See note
to Wace, p. 27. Nevertheless. Matilda's mother, Adele, stood
in the relation of aunt to William, as widow of his father's
elder brother, " an affinity," as is observed by a writer in the
" Archaeologia." " quite near enough to account for, if not to
justify, the interference of the Church." — Arch. vol. xxxii.
p. 109.

VOL. I.-s

66 HAROLD

municate me — ME — William, the son of Robert the
Devil! Ha, by God's splendour, Mauger shall live to
wish the father stood, in the foul fiend's true likeness,
by his side, rather than brave the bent brow of the
son!"

" Dread my lord," said Fitzosborne, desisting from
his employ, and rising to his feet; " thou knowest
that I am thy true friend and leal knight; thou know-
est how I have aided thee in this marriage with the
lady of Flanders, and how gravely I think that what
pleases thy fancy will guard thy realm; but rather
than brave the order of the Church, and the ban of the
Pope, I would see thee wed to the poorest virgin in
Normandy."

William, who had been pacing the room like an en-
raged lion in his den, halted in amaze at this bold
speech.

"This from thee, William Fitzosborne! — from thee!
I tell thee, that if all the priests in Christendom, and
all the barons in France, stood between me and my
bride, I would hew my way through the midst. Foes
invade my realm — let them; princes conspire against
me — I smile in scorn; subjects mutiny — this strong
hand can punish, or this large heart can forgive. All
these are the dangers which he who governs men
should prepare to meet; but man has a right to his
love, as the stag to his hind. And he who wrongs me
here, is foe and traitor to me, not as Norman Duke
but as human being. Look to it — thou and thy proud
barons, look to it!"

" Proud may thy barons be," said Fitzosborne, red-
dening, and with a brow that quailed not before his
lord's ; " for they are the sons of those who carved out
the realm of the Norman, and owned in Rou but the

HAROLD 67

feudal chief of free warriors; vassals are not villeins.
And that which we hold our duty — whether to Church
or chief — that, Duke William, thy proud barons will
doubtless do; nor less, believe me, for threats which,
braved in discharge of duty and defence of freedom,
we hold as air."

The Duke gazed on his haughty subject with an
eye in which a meaner spirit might have seen its doom.
The veins in his broad temples swelled like cords, and
a light foam gathered round his quivering lips. But
fiery and fearless as William was, not less was he saga-
cious and profound. In that one man he saw the rep-
resentative of that superb and matchless chivalry —
that race of races — those men of men, in whom the
brave acknowledge the highest example of valiant
deeds, and the free the manliest assertion of noble
thoughts,1 since the day when the l?st Athenian cov-
ered his head with his mantle, and mutely died: and
far from being the most stubborn against his will, it
was to Fitzosborne's paramount influence with the
council, that he had often owed their submission to
his wishes, and their contributions to his wars. In
the very tempest of his wrath, he felt that the blow

1 It might be easy to show, were this the place, that though
the Saxons never lost their love of liberty, yet that the vic-
tories which gradually regained the liberty from the gripe of
the Anglo-Norman kings, were achieved by the Anglo-Norman

t aristocracy. And even to this day, the few rare descendants
of that race (whatever their political faction), will generally

; exhibit that impatience of despotic influence, and that disdain
of corruption, which characterise the homely bonders of Nor-
way, in whom we may still recognise the sturdy likeness of
their fathers ; while it is also remarkable that the modern
inhabitants of those portions of the kingdom originally peopled
by their kindred Danes, are, irrespective of mere party di-
visions, noted for their intolerance of all oppression, and their
resolute independence of character; to wit, Yorkshire, Nor-
folk, Cumberland, and large districts in the Scottish Lowlands.

68 HAROLD

he longed to strike on that bold head would shiver his
ducal throne to the dust. He felt, too, that awful in-
deed was that power of the Church which could thus
turn against him the heart of his truest knight: and
he began (for with all his outward frankness his tem-
per was suspicious) to wrong the great-souled noble
by the thought that he might already be won over by
the enemies whom Mauger had arrayed against his
nuptials. Therefore, with one of those rare and mighty
efforts of that dissimulation which debased his char-
acter, but achieved his fortunes, he cleared his brow
of its dark cloud, and said in a low voice, that was not
without its pathos:

" Had an angel from heaven forewarned me that
William Fitzosborne would speak thus to his kinsman
and brother in arms, in the hour of need and the agony
of passion, I would have disbelieved him. Let it
pass "

But ere the last word was out of his lips, Fitzosborne
had fallen on his knees before the Duke, and, clasping
his hand, exclaimed, while the tears rolled down his
swarthy cheek, " Pardon, pardon, my liege ! when thou
speakest thus my heart melts. What thou wiliest, that
will I! Church or Pope, no matter. Send me to
Flanders; I will bring back thy bride."

The slight smile that curved William's lip, showed
that he was scarce worthy of that sublime weakness
in his friend. But he cordially pressed the hand that
grasped his own, and said, " Rise; thus should brother
speak to brother." Then — for his wrath was only con-
cealed, not stifled, and yearned for its vent — his eye
fell upon the delicate and thoughtful face of the priest,
who had watched this short and stormy conference in
profound silence, despite Taillefer's whispers to him

HAROLD 69

to interrupt the dispute. " So, priest," he said, " I
remember me that when Mauger before let loose his
rebellious tongue thou didst lend thy pedant learn-
ing to eke out his brainless treason. Methought that
I then banished thee my realm ? "

" Not so, Count and Seigneur," answered the eccle-
siastic, with a grave but arch smile on his lip; " let me
remind thee, that to speed me back to my native land
thou didst graciously send me a horse, halting on three
legs, and all lame on the fourth. Thus mounted, I
met thee on my road. I saluted thee; so did the
beast, for his head well nigh touched the ground.
Whereon I did ask thee, in a Latin play of words, to
give me at least a quadruped, not a tripod, for my
journey.1 Gracious, even in ire, and with relenting
laugh, was thine answer. My liege, thy words im-
plied banishment — thy laughter pardon. So I stayed."

Despite his wrath, William could scarce repress a
smile; but recollecting himself, he replied, more grave-
ly, " Peace with this levity, priest. Doubtless thou art
the envoy from this scrupulous Mauger, or some other
of my gentle clergy; and thou comest, as doubtless,
with soft words and whining homilies. It is in vain.
I hold the Church in holy reverence; the pontiff knows
it. But Matilda of Flanders I have wooed; and Ma-
. tilda of Flanders shall sit by my side in the halls of
Rouen, or on the deck of my war-ship, till it anchors
on a land worthy to yield a new domain to the son of
the Sea-king."

" In the halls of Rouen — and it may be on the throne
of England — shall Matilda reign by the side of Will-

1 Ex pcn>ctusto codice, MS. Chron. Bee. in Vit. Lanfranc,
quoted in the " Archaeologia," vol. xxxii. p. 109. The joke,
which is very poor, seems to have turned upon pede and
quadrupeds; it is a little altered in the text.

70 HAROLD

iam," said the priest in a clear, low, and emphatic
voice; "and it was to tell my lord the Duke that I
repent me of my first unconsidered obeisance to Mau-
ger as my spiritual superior; that since then I have
myself examined canon and precedent; and though the
letter of the law be against thy spousals, it comes pre-
cisely under the category of those alliances to which
the fathers of the Church accord dispensation: — it is
to tell thee this, that I, plain Doctor of Laws and priest
of Pavia, have crossed the seas."

"Ha Rou!— Ha Rou!" cried Taillefer, with his
usual bluffness, and laughing with great glee, " why
wouldst thou not listen to me, monseigneur? "

" If thou deceivest me not," said William, in sur-
prise, " and thou canst make good thy words, no prel-
ate in Neustria, save Odo of Bayeux, shall lift his head
high as thine." And here William, deeply versed in
the science of men, bent his eyes keenly upon the un-
changing and earnest face of the speaker. " Ah," he
burst out, as if satisfied with the survey, " and my
mind tells me that thou speakest not thus boldly and
calmly without ground sufficient. Man, I like thee.
Thy name? I forget it."

" Lanfranc of Pavia, please you my lord ; called
sometimes ' Lanfranc the Scholar ' in thy cloister of
Bee. Nor misdeem me, that I, humble, unmitred
priest, should be thus bold. In birth I am noble, and
my kindred stand near to the grace of our ghostly
pontiff; to the pontiff I myself am not unknown. Did
I desire honours, in Italy I might seek them; it is not
so. I crave no guerdon for the service I proffer; none
but this — leisure and books in the Convent of Bee."

" Sit down — nay, sit, man," said William, greatly
interested, but still suspicious. " One riddle only I ask

HAROLD 71

thee to solve, before I give thee all my trust, and place
my very heart in thy hands. Why, if thou desirest
not rewards, shouldst thou thus care to serve me —
thou, a foreigner?"

A light, brilliant and calm, shone in the eyes of the
scholar, and a blush spread over his pale cheeks.

" My Lord Prince, I will answer in plain words.
But first permit me to be the questioner."

The priest turned towards Fitzosborne, who had
seated himself on a stool at William's feet, and, leaning
his chin on his hand, listened to the ecclesiastic, not
more with devotion to his calling, than wonder at the
influence one so obscure was irresistibly gaining over
his own martial spirit, and William's iron craft.

" Lovest thou not, William Lord of Breteuil, lovest
thou not fame for the sake of fame?"

" Sur tnon amc — yes ! " said the Baron.

" And thou, Taillefer the minstrel, lovest thou not
song for the sake of song? "

" For song alone," replied the mighty minstrel.
" More gold in one ringing rhyme than in all the
coffers of Christendom."

" And marvellest thou, reader of men's hearts," said
the scholar, turning once more to William, " that the
student loves knowledge for the sake of knowledge?
Born of high race, poor in purse, and slight of thews,
betimes I found wealth in books, and drew strength
from lore. I heard of the Count of Rouen and the
Normans, as a prince of small domain, with a measure-
less spirit, a lover of letters, and a captain in war. I
came to thy duchy, I noted its subjects and its prince,
and the words of Themistocles rang in my ear: ' I can-
not play the lute, but I can make a small state great.'
I felt an interest in thy strenuous and troubled career.

72 HAROLD

I believe that knowledge, to spread amongst the na-
tions, must first find a nursery in the brain of kings;
and I saw in the deed-doer, the agent of the thinker. In
those espousals, on which with untiring obstinacy thy
heart is set, I might sympathise with thee; perchance "
— (here a melancholy smile flitted over the student's
pale lips), " perchance even as a lover: priest though
I be now, and dead to human love, once I loved, and
I know what it is to strive in hope, and to waste in
despair. But my sympathy, I own, was more given to
the prince than to the lover. It was natural that I,
priest and foreigner, should obey at first the orders of
Mauger, archprelate and spiritual chief, and the more
so as the law was with him; but when I resolved to
stay despite thy sentence which banished me, I re-
solved to aid thee; for if with Mauger was the dead
law, with thee was the living cause of man. Duke
William, on thy nuptials with Matilda of Flanders rests
thy duchy — rest, perchance, the mightier sceptres that
are yet to come. Thy title disputed, thy principality
new and unestablished, thou, above all men, must link
thy new race with the ancient line of kings and kaisars.
Matilda is the descendant of Charlemagne and Alfred.
Thy realm is insecure as long as France undermines it
with plots, and threatens it with arms. Marry the
daughter of Baldwin — and thy wife is the niece of
Henry of France — thine enemy becomes thy kinsman,
and must, perforce, be thine ally. This is not all; it
were strange, looking round this disordered royalty
of England — a childless king, who loves thee better
than his own blood; a divided nobility, already adopt-
ing the fashions of the stranger, and accustomed to
shift their faith from Saxon to Dane, and Dane to
Saxon; a people that has respect indeed for brave

HAROLD 73

chiefs, but, seeing new men rise daily from new houses,
has no reverence for ancient lines and hereditary
names; with a vast mass of villeins or slaves that have
no interest in the land or its rulers; strange, seeing
all this, if thy day-dreams have not also beheld a Nor-
man sovereign on the throne of Saxon England. And
thy marriage with the descendant of the best and most
beloved prince that ever ruled these realms, if it does
not give thee a title to the land, may help to conciliate
its affections, and to fix thy posterity in the halls of
their mother's kin. Have I said eno' to prove why,
for the sake of nations, it were wise for the pontiff to
stretch the harsh girths of the law? why I might be
enabled to prove to the Court of Rome the policy of
conciliating the love, and strengthening the hands, of
the Norman Count, who may so become the main prop
of Christendom? Yea, have I said eno' to prove that
the humble clerk can look on mundane matters with
the eye of a man who can make small states great? "

William remained speechless — his hot blood thrilled
with a half superstitious awe; so thoroughly had this
obscure Lombard divined, detailed all the intricate
meshes of that policy with which he himself had inter-
woven his pertinacious affection for the Flemish prin-
cess, that it seemed to him as if he listened to the echo
of his own heart, or heard from a soothsayer the voice
of his most secret thoughts.

The priest continued:

" Wherefore, thus considering, I said to myself, Now
has the time come, Lanfranc the Lombard, to prove to
thee whether thy self-boastings have been a vain de-
ceit, or whether, in this age of iron and amidst this lust
of gold, thou, the penniless and the feeble, canst make
knowledge and wit of more avail to the destinies of

74 HAROLD

kings than armed men and filled treasuries. I be-
lieve in that power. I am ready for the test. Pause,
judge from what the Lord of Breteuil hath said to
thee, what will be the defection of thy lords if the Pope
confirm the threatened excommunication of thine
uncle? Thine armies will rot from thee; thy treasures
will be like dry leaves in thy coffers; the Duke of Bre-
tagne will claim thy duchy as the legitimate heir of
thy forefathers; the Duke of Burgundy will league
with the King of France, and march on thy faithless
legion's under the banner of the Church. The hand-
writing is on the walls, and thy sceptre and thy crown,
will pass away."

William set his teeth' firmly, and breathed hard.

" But send me to Rome, thy delegate, and the thun-
der of Mauger shall fall powerless. Marry Matilda,
bring her to thy halls, place her on thy throne, laugh
to scorn the interdict of thy traitor uncle, and rest as-
sured that the Pope shall send thee his dispensation
to thy spousals, and his benison on thy marriage-bed.
And when this be done, Duke William, give me not
abbacies and prelacies; multiply books, and stablish
schools, and bid thy servant found the royalty of
knowledge, as thou shalt found the sovereignty of
war."

The Duke, transported from himself, leaped up and
embraced the priest with his vast arms; he kissed his
cheeks, he kissed his forehead, as, in those days, king
kissed king with " the kiss of peace."

" Lanfranc of Pavia," he cried, " whether thou suc-
ceed or fail, thou hast my love and gratitude ever-
more. As thou speakest, would I have spoken, had
I been born, framed, and reared as thou. And, verily,
when I hear thee, I blush for the boasts of my barba-

HAROLD 75

rous pride, that no man can wield my mace, or bend
my bow. Poor is the strength of body — a web of law
can entangle it, and a word from a priest's mouth can
palsy. But thou! — let me look at thee."

William gazed on the pale face: from head to foot
he scanned the delicate, slender form, and then, turn-
ing away, he said to Fitzosborne:

" Thou, whose mailed hand hath fell'd a war-steed,
art thou not ashamed of thyself? The day is coming,
I see it afar, when these slight men shall set their feet
upon our corslets."

He paused as if in thought, again paced the room,
and stopped before the crucifix, and image of the Vir-
gin, which stood in a niche near the bed-head.

" Right, noble prince," said the priest's low voice,
" pause there for a solution to all enigmas; there view
the symbol of all-enduring power; there, learn its ends
below — comprehend the account it must yield above.
To your thoughts and your prayers we leave you."

He took the stalwart arm of Taillefer, as he spoke,
and, with a grave obeisance to Fitzosborne, left the
chamber.

CHAPTER III

The next morning William was long closeted alone
with Lanfranc, — that man, among the most remark-
able of his age, 01 whom it was said, that " to compre-
hend the extent of his talents, one must be Herodian
in grammar, Aristotle in dialectics, Cicero in rhet-
oric, Augustine and Jerome in Scriptural lore," * — and

1 Ord. Vital. See Note on Lanfranc, at the end of the
volume.

76 HAROLD

ere the noon the Duke's gallant and princely train wert
ordered to be in readiness for return home.

The crowd in the broad space, and the citizens from
their boats in the river, gazed on the knights and
steeds of that gorgeous company, already drawn up
and awaiting without the open gates the sound of the
trumpets that should announce the Duke's departure.
Before the hall-door in the inner court were his own
men. The snow-white steed of Odo; the alezan of
Fitzosborne; and, to the marvel of all, a small palfrey
plainly caparisoned. What did that palfrey amid those
steeds? — the steeds themselves seemed to chafe at the
companionship; the Duke's charger pricked up his
ears and snorted; the Lord of Breteuil's alezan kicked
out, as the poor nag humbly drew near to make ac-
quaintance; and the prelate's white barb, with red
vicious eye, and ears laid down, ran fiercely at the low-
bred intruder, with difficulty reined in by the squires,
who shared the beast's amaze and resentment.

Meanwhile the Duke thoughtfully took his way to
Edward's apartments. In the anteroom were many
monks and many knights: but conspicuous amongst
them all was a tall and stately veteran, leaning on a
great two-handed sword, and whose dress and fashion
of beard were those of the last generation, the men
who had fought with Canute the Great or Edmund
Ironsides. So grand was the old man's aspect, and
so did he contrast in appearance the narrow garb and
shaven chins of those around, that the Duke was
roused from his reverie at the sight, and marvelling
why one, evidently a chief of high rank, had neither
graced the banquet in his honour, nor been presented
to his notice, he turned to the Earl of Hereford, who
approached him with gay salutation, and inquired the

HAROLD 77

name and title of the bearded man in the loose flowing
robe.

" Know you not, in truth?" said the lively Earl, in
some wonder. " In him you see the great rival of
Godwin. He is the hero of the Danes, as Godwin is
of the Saxons, a true son of Odin, Siward, Earl of the
Northumbrians." 1

" Notre Dame be my aid, — his fame hath oft filled
my ears, and I should have lost the most welcome sight
in merrie England had I not now beheld him."

Therewith, the Duke approached courteously, and,
doffing the cap he had hitherto retained, he greeted
the old hero with those compliments which the Nor-
man had already learned in the courts of the Frank.

The stout Earl received them coldly, and replying
in Danish to William's Romance-tongue, he said:

" Pardon, Count of the Normans, if these old lips
cling to their old words. Both of us, methinks, date
our lineage from the lands of the Norse. Suffer Si-
ward to speak the language the sea-kings spoke. The
old oak is not to be transplanted, and the old man
keeps the ground where his youth took root."

The Duke, who with some difficulty comprehended
the general meaning of Siward's speech, bit his lip, but
replied courteously:

" The youths of all nations may learn from renowned

1 Siward was almost a giant (pcne gigas statura). There
are some curious anecdotes of this hero, immortalised by
Shakspere, in the Bromton Chronicle. His grandfather is said
to have been a bear, who fell in love with a Danish lady ; and
his father, Beorn, retained some of the traces of the parental
physiognomy in a pair of pointed ears. The origin of this
fable seems evident. His grandfather was a Berserker; for
whether that name be derived, as is more generally supposed,
from bare-sark, — or rather from bear-sark, that is, whether
this grisly specimen of the Viking genus fought in his shirt
or his bearskin, the name equally lends itself to those mysti-
fications from which half the old legends, whether of Greece
or Norway, are derived.

78 HAROLD

age. Much doth it shame me that I cannot commune
with thee in the ancestral tongue; but the angels at
least know the language of the Norman Christian, and
I pray them and the saints for a calm end to thy brave
career."

" Pray not to angel or saint for Siward son of
Beorn," said the old man hastily; " let me not have a
cow's death, but a warrior's; die in my mail of proof,
axe in hand, and helm on head. And such may be my
death, if Edward the King reads my rede and grants
my prayer."

"I have influence with the King," said William;
" name thy wish, that I may back it."

" The fiend forfend," said the grim Earl, " that a
foreign prince should sway England's King, or that
thegn and earl should ask other backing than leal
service and just cause. If Edward be the saint men
call him, he will loose me on the hell-wolf, without
other cry than his own conscience."

The Duke turned inquiringly to Rolf; who, thus
appealed to, said:

" Siward urges my uncle to espouse the cause of
Malcolm of Cumbria against the bloody tyrant Mac-
beth; and but for the disputes with the traitor God-
win, the King had long since turned his arms to Scot-
land."

" Call not traitors, young man," said the Earl, in
high disdain, " those who, with all their faults and
crimes, have placed thy kinsman on the throne of
Canute."

" Hush, Rolf," said the Duke, observing the fierce
young Norman about to reply hastily. " But me-
thought, though my knowledge of English troubles is
but scant, that Siward was the sworn foe to Godwin? "

HAROLD 79

" Foe to him in his power, friend to him in his
wrongs," answered Siward. " And if England needs
defenders when I and Godwin are in our shrouds,
there is but one man worthy of the days of old, and
his name is Harold, the outlaw."

William's face changed remarkably, despite all his
dissimulation; and, with a slight inclination of his
head, he strode on moody and irritated.

"This Harold! this Harold!" he muttered to him-
self, " all brave men speak to me of this Harold! Even
my Norman knights name him with reluctant rever-
ence, and even his foes do him honour; — verily his
shadow is cast from exile over all the land."

Thus murmuring, he passed the throng with less
than his wonted affable grace, and pushing back the
officers who wished to precede him, entered, without
ceremony, Edward's private chamber.

The King was alone, but talking loudly to himself,
gesticulating vehemently, and altogether so changed
from his ordinary placid apathy of mien, that William
drew back in alarm and awe. Often had he heard in-
directly, that of late years Edward was said to see
visions, and be rapt from himself into the world of
spirit and shadow; and such, he now doubted not,
was the strange paroxysm of which he was made the
witness. Edward's eyes were fixed on him, but evi-
dently without recognising his presence; the King's
hands were outstretched, and he cried aloud in a voice
of sharp anguish:

" Sanguclac, Sanguclac! — the Lake of Blood! — the
waves spread, the waves redden! Mother of mercy
— where is the ark? — where the Ararat? — Fly — fly—
this way — this — " and he caught convulsive hold of
William's arm. " No! there the corpses are piled —

8o HAROLD

high and higher — there the horse of the Apocalypse
tramples the dead in their gore."

In great horror, William took the King, now gasp-
ing on his breast, in his arms, and laid him on his bed,
beneath its canopy of state, all blazoned with the mart-
lets and cross of his insignia. Slowly Edward came
to himself, with heavy sighs; and when at length he
sate up and looked round, it was with evident uncon-
sciousness of what had passed across his haggard and
wandering spirit, for he said, with his usual drowsy
calmness:

" Thanks, Guillaume, bien aime, for rousing me from
unseasoned sleep. How fares it with thee?"

" Nay, how with thee, dear friend and king? thy
dreams have been troubled."

" Not so; I slept so heavily, methinks I could not
have dreamed at all. But thou art clad as for a jour-
ney— spur on thy heel, staff in thy hand! "

" Long since, O dear host, I sent Odo to tell thee
of the ill news from Normandy that compelled me to
depart."

" I remember — I remember me now," said Edward,
passing his pale womanly fingers over his forehead.
" The heathen rage against thee. Ah ! my poor
brother, a crown is an awful head-gear. While yet
time, why not both seek some quiet convent, and put
away these earthly cares?"

William smiled and shook his head. " Nay, holy
Edward, from all I have seen of convents, it is a dream
to think that the monk's serge hides a calmer breast
than the warrior's mail, or the king's ermine. Now
give me thy benison, for I go."

He knelt as he spoke, and Edward bent his hands
over his head, and blessed him. Then, taking from

"This Harold! this Harold 1 all brave men speak to me of
this Harold."

HAROLD 8l

his own neck a collar of zimmes (jewels and uncut
gems), of great price, the King threw it over the broad
throat bent before him, and rising, clapped his hands.
A small door opened, giving a glimpse of the oratory
within, and a monk appeared.

" Father, have my behests been fulfilled? — hath
Hugoline, my treasurer, dispensed the gifts that I
spoke of? "

" Verily yes ; vault, coffer, and garde-robe — stall
and meuse — are well nigh drained," answered the
monk, with a sour look at the Norman, whose native
avarice gleamed in his dark eyes as he heard the an-
swer.

" Thy train go not hence empty-handed," said Ed-
ward fondly. " Thy father's halls sheltered the exile,
and the exile forgets not the sole pleasure of a king
— the power to requite. We may never meet again,
William, — age creeps over me, and who will succeed
to my thorny throne ? "

William longed to answer, — to tell the hope that con-
sumed him, — to remind his cousin of the vague prom-
ise in their youth, that the Norman Count should suc-
ceed to that " thorny throne: " but the presence of the
Saxon monk repelled him, nor was there in Edward's
uneasy look much to allure him on.

" But peace," continued the King, " be between
thine and mine, as between thee and me! "

" Amen," said the Duke, " and I leave thee at least
free from the proud rebels who so long disturbed thy
reign. This House of Godwin, thou wilt not again
let it tower above thy palace? "

" Nay, the future is with God and his saints; " an-
swered Edward, feebly. " But Godwin is old — older
than I, and bowed by many storms."
VOL. I.— 6

82 HAROLD

" Ay, his sons are more to be dreaded and kept aloof
—mostly Harold!"

" Harold, — he was ever obedient, he alone of his
kith; truly my soul mourns for Harold," said the King,
sighing.

" The serpent's egg hatches but the serpent Keep
thy heel on it," said William, sternly.

" Thou speakest well," said the irresolute prince,
who never seemed three days or three minutes to-
gether in the same mind. " Harold is in Ireland —
there let him rest: better for all."

" For all," said the Duke; " so the saints keep thee,
O royal saint! "

He kissed the King's hand, and strode away to the
hall where Odo, Fitzosborne, and the priest Lanfranc
awaited him. And so that day, halfway towards the
fair town of Dover, rode Duke William, and by the
side of his roan barb ambled the priest's palfrey.

Behind came his gallant train, and with tumbrils
and sumpter-mules laden with baggage, and enriched
by Edward's gifts; while Welch hawk&, and steeds of
great price from the pastures of Surrey and the plains
of Cambridge and York, attested no less acceptably
than zimme, and golden chain, and embroidered robe,
the munificence of the grateful King.1

As they journeyed on, and the fame of the Duke's
coming was sent abroad by the bodes or messengers,
despatched to prepare the towns through which he was
to pass for an arrival sooner than expected, the more
highborn youths of England, especially those of the
party counter to that of the banished Godwin, came
round the ways to gaze upon that famous chief, who,
from the age of fifteen, had wielded the most redoubt-
1 Wace.

HAROLD 83

able sword of Christendom. And those youths wore
the Norman garb: and in the towns, Norman counts
held his stirrup to dismount, and Norman hosts spread
the fastidious board; and when, at the eve of the next
day, William saw the pennant of one of his own fa-
vourite chiefs waving in the van of armed men, that
sallied forth from the towers of Dover (the key of the
coast) he turned to the Lombard, still by his side, and
said:

" Is not England part of Normandy already?"

And the Lombard answered:

" The fruit is well nigh ripe, and the first breeze will
shake it to thy feet. Put not out thy hand too soon.
Let the wind do its work."

And the Duke made reply:

" As thou thinkest, so think I. And there is but
one wind in the halls of heaven that can waft the fruit
to the feet of another."

"And that?" asked the Lombard.

" Is the wind that blows from the shores of Ireland,
when it fills the sails of Harold, son of Godwin."

" Thou fearest that man, and why? " asked the Lom-
bard with interest.

And the Duke answered:

" Because in the breast of Harold beats the heart of
England."

CHAPTER I

And all went to the desire of Duke William the Nor-
man. With one hand he curbed his proud vassals,
and drove back his fierce foes. With the other, he led
to the altar Matilda, the maid of Flanders; and all
happened as Lanfranc had foretold. William's most
formidable enemy, the King of France, ceased to con-
spire against his new kinsman; and the neighbouring
princes said, " The Bastard hath become one of us
since he placed by his side the descendant of Charle-
magne." And Mauger, Archbishop of Rouen, ex-
communicated the Duke and his bride, and the ban fell
idle; for Lanfranc sent from Rome the Pope's dispen-
sation and blessing,1 conditionally only that bride and
bridegroom founded each a church. And Mauger
was summoned before the synod, and accused of un-
clerical crimes; and they deposed him from his state,
and took from him abbacies and sees. And England
every day waxed more and more Norman; and Ed-
ward grew more feeble and infirm, and there seemed
not a barrier between the Norman Duke and the Eng-
lish throne, when suddenly the wind blew in the halls
of heaven, and filled the sails of Harold the Earl.

1 See Note (E), at the end of the volume (foot-note on the
date of William's marriage).

84

HAROLD 85

And his ships came to the mouth of the Severn.
And the people of Somerset and Devon, a mixed and
mainly a Celtic race, who bore small love to the Sax-
ons, drew together against him, and he put them to
flight.1

Meanwhile, Godwin and his sons Sweyn, Tostig,
and Gurth, who had taken refuge in that very Flan-
ders from which William the Duke had won his bride,
— (for Tostig had wed, previously, the sister of Ma-
tilda, the rose of Flanders; and Count Baldwin had,
for his sons-in-law, both Tostig and William,) — mean-
while, I say, these, not holpen by the Count Baldwin,
but helping themselves, lay at Bruges, ready to join
Harold the Earl. And Edward, advised of this from
the anxious Norman, caused forty ships 2 to be
equipped, and put them under command of Rolf, Earl
of Hereford. The ships lay at Sandwich in wait for
Godwin. But the old Earl got from them, and landed
quietly on the southern coast. And the fort of Has-
tings opened to his coming with a shout from its
armed men.

All the boatmen, all the mariners, far and near,
thronged to him, with sail and with shield, with sword
and with oar. All Kent (the foster-mother of the Sax-
ons) sent forth the cry, " Life or death with Earl God-
win." * Fast over the length and breadth of the land,
went the bodes 4 and riders of the Earl; and hosts, with
one voice, answered the cry of the children of Horsa,
" Life or death with Earl Godwin." And the ships
of King Edward, in dismay, turned flag and prow to
London, and the fleet of Harold sailed on. So the

1 Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. * Some writers say fifty.
•Hovenden. * Bodes, i.e. messengers.

86 HAROLD

old Earl met his young son on the deck of a war-ship,
that had once borne the Raven of the Dane.

Swelled and gathering sailed the armament of the
English men. Slow up the Thames it sailed, and on
either shore marched tumultuous the swarming mul-
titudes. And King Edward sent after more help, but
it came up very late. So the fleet of the Earl nearly
faced the Julliet Keape of London, and abode at
Southwark till the flood-tide came up. When he had
mustered his host, then came the flood-tide.1

CHAPTER II

King Edward sate, not on his throne, but on a chair
of state, in the presence-chamber of his palace of West-
minster. His diadem, with the three zimmes shaped
into a triple trefoil 2 on his brow, his sceptre in his
right hand. His royal robe, tight to the throat, with
a broad band of gold, flowed to his feet; and at the
fold gathered round the left knee, where now the kings
of England wear the badge of St. George, was em-
broidered a simple cross.3 In that chamber met the
thegns and proceres of his realm; but not they alone.
No national Witan there assembled, but a council of
war, composed at least one third part of Normans —
counts, knights, prelates, and abbots of high degree.

And King Edward looked a king! The habitual
lethargic meekness had vanished from his face, and the
large crown threw a shadow, like a frown, over his
brow. His spirit seemed to have risen from the

1 Anglo-Saxon Chronicle.

2 Or Fleur-de-lis, which seems to have been a common form
of ornament with the Saxon kings. * Bayeux Tapsstry.

HAROLD 87

weight it took from the sluggish blood of his father,
Ethelred the Unready, and to have remounted to the
brighter and earlier sources of ancestral heroes.
Worthy in that hour he seemed to boast the blood
and wield the sceptre of Athelstan and Alfred.1

Thus spoke the King:

" Right worthy and beloved, my ealdermen, earls,
and thegns of England; noble and familiar, my friends
and guests, counts and chevaliers of Normandy, my
mother's land; and you, our spiritual chiefs, above
all ties of birth and country, Christendom your com-
mon appanage, and from Heaven your seignories and
fiefs, — hear the words of Edward, the King of England
under grace of the Most High. The rebels are in our
river; open yonder lattice, and you will see the piled
shields glittering from their barks, and hear the hum
of their hosts. Not a bow has yet been drawn, not
a sword left its sheath; yet on the opposite side of the
river are our fleets of forty sail — along the strand, be-
tween our palace and the gates of London, are arrayed
our armies. And this pause because Godwin the
traitor hath demanded truce and his nuncius waits
without. Are ye willing that we should hear the
message? or would ye rather that we dismiss the
messenger unheard, and pass at once, to rank and to
sail, the war-cry of a Christian king, ' Holy Crosse
and our Lady! ' '

The King ceased, his left hand grasping firm the
leopard head carved on his throne, and his sceptre
untrembling in his lifted hand.

A murmur of Notre Dame, Notre Dame, the war-
cry of the Normans, was heard amongst the stranger-
knights of the audience; but haughty and arrogant as

1 See Note (F), at the end of the volume.

88 HAROLD

those strangers were, no one presumed to take prece-
dence, in England's danger, of men English born.

Slowly then rose Aired, Bishop of Winchester, the
worthiest prelate in all the land.1

" Kingly son," said the bishop, " evil is the strife
between men of the same blood and lineage, nor jus- ,
lifted but by extremes, which have not yet been made
clear to us. And ill would it sound throughout Eng-
land were it said that the King's council gave, per-
chance, his city of London to sword and fire, and rent
his land in twain, when a word in season might have
disbanded yon armies, and given to your throne a
submissive subject, where now you are mena'ced by
a formidable rebel. Wherefore, I say, admit the nun-
cius."

Scarcely had Aired resumed his seat, before Robert
the Norman prelate of Canterbury started up, — a man,
it was said, of worldly learning — and exclaimed:

" To admit the messenger is to approve the treason.
I do beseech the King to consult only his royal heart
and royal honour. Reflect — each moment of delay
swells the rebel hosts, strengthens their cause; of each
moment they avail themselves to allure to their side
the misguided citizens. Delay but proves our own
weakness; a king's name is a tower of strength, but
only when fortified by a king's authority. Give the
signal for — war I call it not — no — for chastisement
and justice."

1 The York Chronicle, written by an Englishman, Stubbs,
gives this eminent person an excellent character as peace-
maker. " He could make the warmest friends of foes the
most hostile." " De inimicissimis, amicissimos faceret." This
gentle priest had yet the courage to curse the Norman Con-
queror in the midst of his barons. That scene is not within
the range of this work, but it is very strikingly told in the
Chronicle.

HAROLD 89

" As speaks my brother of Canterbury, speak I,"
said William, Bishop of London, another Norman.

But then there rose up a form at whose rising all
murmurs were hushed.

Grey and vast, as some image of a gone and migh-
tier age towered over all, Siward, the son of Beorn,
the great Earl of Northumbria.

" We have naught to do with the Normans. Were
they on the river, and our countrymen, Dane or Saxon,
alone in this hall, small doubt of the King's choice,
and niddering were the man who spoke of peace; but
when Norman advises the dwellers of England to go
forth and slay each other, no sword of mine shall be
drawn at his hest. Who shall say that Siward of the
Strong Arm, the grandson of the Berserker, ever
turned from a foe? The foe, son of Ethelred, sits in
these halls; I fight thy battles when I say Nay to the
Norman! Brothers-in-arms of the kindred race and
common tongue, Dane and Saxon long intermingled,
proud alike of Canute the glorious and Alfred the wise,
ye will hear the man whom Godwin, our countryman,
sends to us; he at least will speak our tongue, and he
knows our laws. If the demand he delivers be just,
such as a king should grant, and our Witan should
hear, woe to him who refuses ; if unjust be the demand,
shame to him who accedes. Warrior sends to warrior,
countryman to countryman; hear we as countrymen,
and judge as warriors. I have said."

The utmost excitement and agitation followed the
speech of Siward, — unanimous applause from the Sax-
ons, even those who in times of peace were most under
the Norman contagion; but no words can paint the
wrath and scorn of the Normans. They spoke loud
and many at a time; the greatest disorder prevailed.

90 HAROLD

But the majority being English, there could be no
doubt as to the decision; and Edward, to whom the
emergence gave both a dignity and presence of mind
rare to him, resolved to terminate the dispute at once.
He stretched forth his sceptre, and motioning to his
chamberlain, bade him introduce the nuncius.1

A blank disappointment, not unmixed with appre-
hensive terror, succeeded the turbulent excitement of
the Normans; for well they knew that the conse-
quences, if not condition, of negotiations, would be
their own downfall and banishment at the least; —
happy, it might be, to escape massacre at the hands
of the exasperated multitude.

The door at the end of the room opened, and the
nuncius appeared. He was a sturdy, broad-shouldered
man, of middle age, and in the long loose garb orig-
inally national with the Saxon, though then little in
vogue ; his beard thick and fair, his eyes grey and calm
— a chief of Kent, where all the prejudices of his race
were strongest, and whose yeomanry claimed in war
the hereditary right to be placed in the front of battle.

He made his manly but deferential salutation to. the
august council as he approached; and, pausing mid-
way between the throne and door, he fell on his
knees without thought of shame, for the King to
whom he knelt was the descendant of Woden, and the
heir of Hengist. At a sign and a brief word from the
King, still on his knees, Vebba, the Kentman, spoke.

"To Edward, son of Ethel red, his most gracious
king and lord, Godwin, son of Wolnoth, sends faith-
ful and humble greeting, by Vebba, the thegn-born.

1 Heralds, though probably the word is Saxon, were not
then known in the modern acceptation of the word. The name
given to the messenger or envoy who fulfilled that office was
bode or nuncius. See Note (G), at the end of the volume.

HAROLD 91

He prays the King to hear him in kindness, and judge
of him with mercy. Not against the King comes he
hither with ships and arms; but against those only
who would stand between the King's heart and the
subject's: those who have divided a house against
itself, and parted son and father, man and wife."

At those last words Edward's sceptre trembled in
his hand, and his face grew almost stern.

" Of the King, Godwin but prays with all submiss
and earnest prayer, to reverse the unrighteous out-
lawry against him and his ; to restore him and his sons
their just possessions and well-won honours; and,
more than all, to replace them where they have sought
by loving service not unworthily to stand, in the grace
of their born lord and in the van of those who would
uphold the laws and liberties of England. This done
— the ships sail back to their haven; the thegn seeks
his homestead and the ceorl returns to the plough;
for with Godwin are no strangers; and his force is
but the love of his countrymen."

" Hast thou said? " quoth the King.

" I have said."

" Retire, and await our answer."

The Thegn of Kent was then led back into an ante-
room, in which, armed from head to heel in ring-mail,
were several Normans whose youth or station did not
admit them into the council, but still of no mean in-
terest in the discussion, from the lands and possessions
they had already contrived to gripe out of the de-
mesnes of the exiles; — burning for battle and eager
for the word. Amongst these was Mallet de Graville.

The Norman valour of this young knight was, as
we have seen, guided by Norman intelligence; and he
had not disdained, since William's departure, to study

92 HAROLD

the tongue of the country in which he hoped to ex-
change his mortgaged tower on the Seine, for some
fair barony on the Humber or the Thames.

While the rest of his proud countrymen stood aloof,
with eyes of silent scorn, from the homely nuncius,
Mallet approached him with courteous bearing, and
said in Saxon:

" May I crave to know the issue of thy message
from the reb — that is from the doughty Earl?"

" I wait to learn it," said Vebba, bluffly.

"They heard thee throughout, then?"

" Throughout."

" Friendly Sir," said the Sire de Graville, seeking
to subdue the tone of irony habitual to him, and ac-
quired, perhaps, from his maternal ancestry, the
Franks. " Friendly and peace-making Sir, dare I so
far venture to intrude on the secrets of thy mission as
to ask if Godwin demands, among other reasonable
items, the head of thy humble servant — not by name
indeed, for my name is as yet unknown to him — but
as one of the unhappy class called Normans? "

" Had Earl Godwin," returned the nuncius,
" thought fit to treat for peace by asking vengeance,
he would have chosen another spokesman. The Earl
asks but his own; and thy head is not, I trow, a part
of his goods and chattels."

" That is comforting," said Mallet. " Marry, I
thank thee, Sir Saxon; and thou speakest like a brave
man and an honest. And if we fall to blows, as I
suspect we shall, I should deem it a favour of our
Lady the Virgin if she send thee across my way. Next
to a fair friend I love a bold foe."

Vebba smiled, for he liked the sentiment, and the
tone and air of the young knight pleased his rough
mind, despite his prejudices against the stranger.

HAROLD 93

Encouraged by the smile, Mallet seated himself on
the corner of the long table that skirted the room, and
with a debonnair gesture invited Vebba to do the
same; then looking at him gravely, he resumed:

" So frank and courteous thou art, Sir Envoy, that
I yet intrude on thee my ignorant and curious ques-
tions."

" Speak out, Norman."

" How comes it, then, that you English so love
this Earl Godwin? — Still more, why think you it right
and proper that King Edward should love him too?
It is a question I have often asked, and to which I am
not likely in these halls to get answer satisfactory.
If I know aught of your troublous history, this same
Earl has changed sides oft eno'; first for the Saxon,
then for Canute the Dane — Canute dies, and your
friend takes up arms for the Saxon again. He yields
to the advice of your Witan, and sides with Hardi-
canute and Harold, the Danes — a letter, nathless, is
written as from Emma, the mother to the young Saxon
princes, Edward and Alfred, inviting them over to Eng-
land, and promising aid; the saints protect Edward,
who continues to say aves in Normandy — Alfred
comes over, Earl Godwin meets him, and, unless be-
lied, does him homage, and swears to him faith. Nay,
listen yet. This Godwin, whom ye love so, then leads
Alfred and his train into the ville of Guiklford, I think
ye call it, — fair quarters enow. At the dead of the
night rush in King Harold's men, seize prince and
follower, six hundred men in all; and next morning,
saving only every tenth man, they are tortured and
put to death. The prince is borne off to London, and
shortly afterwards his eyes are torn out in the Islet of
Ely, and he dies of the anguish! That ye should love

94 HAROLD

Earl Godwin withal may be strange, but yet possible.
But is it possible, cher Envoy, for the King to love
the man who thus betrayed his brother to the shan>
bles?"

" All this is a Norman fable," said the Thegn of
Kent, with a disturbed visage; "and Godwin cleared
himself on oath of all share in the foul murder of Al-
fred."

" The oath, I have heard, was backed," said the
knight drily, " by a present to Hardicanute, who after
the death of King Harold resolved to avenge the black
butchery; a present, I say, of a gilt ship, manned by
fourscore warriors with gold-hilted swords, and gilt
helms. — But let this pass."

" Let it pass," echoed Vebba with a sigh. " Bloody
were those times, and unholy their secrets."

" Yet answer me still, why love you Earl Godwin ?
He hath changed sides from party to party, and in
each change won lordships and lands. He is ambi-
tious and grasping, ye all allow; for the ballads sung
in your streets liken him to the thorn and the bramble,
at which the sheep leaves his wool. He is haughty
and overbearing. Tell me, O Saxon, frank Saxon,
why you love Godwin the Earl? Fain would I know;
for, please the saints (and you and your Earl so per-
mitting), I mean to live and die in this merrie Eng-
land; and it would be pleasant to learn that I have
but to do as Earl Godwin, in order to win love from the
English."

The stout Vebba looked perplexed; but after strok-
ing his beard thoughtfully, he answered thus:

" Though of Kent, and therefore in his earldom, I
am not one of Godwin's especial party; for that reason
was I chosen his bode. Those who are under him

HAROLD 95

doubtless love a chief liberal to give and strong to pro-
tect. The old age of a great leader gathers rever-
ence, as an oak gathers moss. But to me, and those
like me, living peaceful at home, shunning courts, and
tempting not broils, Godwin the man is not dear — it
is Godwin the thing."

" Though I do my best to know your language,"
said the knight, " ye have phrases that might puzzle
King Solomon. What meanest thou by ' Godwin the
thing'?"

" That which to us Godwin only seems to uphold.
We love justice; whatever his offences, Godwin was
banished unjustly. We love our laws; Godwin was
dishonoured by maintaining them. We love Eng-
land, and are devoured by strangers; Godwin's cause
is England's, and — stranger, forgive me for not con-
cluding."

Then examining the young Norman with a look of
rough compassion, he laid his large hand upon the
knight's shoulder and whispered:

" Take my advice — and fly."

" Fly! " said De Graville, reddening. " Is it to fly,
think you, that I have put on my mail, and girded my
sword ? "

" Vain — vain ! Wasps are fierce, but the swarm is
doomed when the straw is kindled. I tell you this
— fly in time, and you are safe; but let the King be so
misguided as to count on arms, and strive against yon
multitude, and verily before nightfall not one Norman
will be found alive within ten miles of the city. Look
to it, youth! Perhaps thou hast a mother — let her
not mourn a son ! "

Before the Norman could shape into Saxon suffi-
ciently polite and courtly his profound and indignant

9<5 HAROLD

disdain of the counsel, his sense of the impertinence
with which his shoulder had been profaned, and his
mother's son had been warned, the nuncius was again
summoned into the presence-chamber. Nor did he
return into the ante-room, but conducted forthwith
from the council — his brief answer received — to the
stairs of the palace, he reached the boat in which he
had come, and was rowed back to the ship that held
the Earl and his sons.

Now this was the manoeuvre of Godwin's array. His
vessels having passed London Bridge, had rested
awhile on the banks of the Southward suburb (Suth-
weorde) — since called Southwark — and the King's
ships lay to the north; but the fleet of the Earl's, after
a brief halt, veered majestically round, and coming
close to the palace of Westminster, inclined north-
ward, as if to hem the King's ships. Meanwhile the
land forces drew up close to the Strand, almost within
bow-shot of the King's troops, that kept the ground
inland; thus Vebba saw before him, so near as scarcely
to be distinguished from each other, on the river the
rival fleets, on the shore the rival armaments.

High above all the vessels towered the majestic
bark, or aesca, that had borne Harold from the Irish
shores. Its fashion was that of the ancient sea-kings,
to one of whom it had belonged. Its curved and
mighty prow, richly gilded, stood out far above the
waves: the prow, the head of the sea-snake; the stern
its spire; head and spire alike glittering in the sun.

The boat drew up to the lofty side of the vessel, a
ladder was lowered, the nuncius ascended lightly and
stood on deck. At the farther end grouped the sail-
ors, few in number, and at respectful distance from the
Earl and his sons.

HAROLD 97

Godwin himself was but half armed. His head was
bare, nor had he other weapon of offence than the gilt
battle-axe of the Danes — weapon as much of office as
of war; but his broad breast was covered with the ring
mail of the time. His stature was lower than that of
any of his sons ; nor did his form exhibit greater phys-
ical strength than that of a man, well shaped, robust,
and deep of chest, who still preserved in age the pith
and sinew of mature manhood. Neither, indeed, did
legend or fame ascribe to that eminent personage
those romantic achievements, those feats of purely an-
imal prowess, which distinguished his rival, Siward.
Brave he was, but brave as a leader; those faculties in
which he appears to have excelled all his contempo-
raries, were more analogous to the requisites of suc-
cess in civilised times, than those which won renown
of old. And perhaps England was the only country
then in Europe which could have given to those facul-
ties their fitting career. He possessed essentially the
arts of party; he knew how to deal with vast masses
of mankind; he could carry along with his interests
the fervid heart of the multitude; he had in the high-
est degree that gift, useless in most other lands — in
all lands where popular assemblies do not exist — the
gift of popular eloquence. Ages elapsed, after the
Norman conquest, ere eloquence again became a
power in England.1

But like all men renowned for eloquence, he went
with the popular feeling of his times; he embodied its
passions, its prejudices — but also that keen sense of
self-interest, which is the invariable characteristic of
a multitude. He was the sense of the commonalty

1 When the chronicler praises the gift of speech, he uncon-
sciously proves the existence of constitutional freedom.
VOL. I.— 7

98 HAROLD

carried to its highest degree. Whatever the faults, it
may be the crimes, of a career singularly prosperous
and splendid, amidst events the darkest and most ter-
rible,— shining with a steady light across the thunder-
clouds,— he was never accused of cruelty or outrage
to the mass of the people. English, emphatically, the
English deemed him; and this not the less that in his
youth he had sided with Canute, and owed his fortunes
to that king; for so intermixed were Danes and Saxons
in England, that the agreement which had given to
Canute one half the kingdom had been received with
general applause; and the earlier severities of that
great prince had been so redeemed in his later years
by wisdom and mildness — so, even in the worst period
of his reign, relieved by extraordinary personal affa-
bility, and so lost now in men's memories by pride in
his power and fame, — that Canute had left behind him
a beloved and honoured name,1 and Godwin was the
more esteemed as the chosen counsellor of that popu-
lar prince. At his death, Godwin was known to have
wished, and even armed, for the restoration of the
Saxon line; and only yielded to the determination of
the Witan, no doubt acted upon by the popular opin-
ion. Of one dark crime he was suspected, and, de-
spite his oath to the contrary, and the formal acquittal
of the national council, doubt of his guilt rested then,
as it rests still, upon his name; viz., the perfidious sur-
render of Alfred, Edward's murdered brother.

But time had passed over the dismal tragedy; and

1 Recent Danish historians have in vain endeavoured to de-
tract from the reputation of Canute as an English monarch.
The Danes are, doubtless, the best authorities for his char-
acter in Denmark. But our own English authorities are
sufficiently decisive as to the personal popularity of Canute
in this country, and the affection entertained for his laws.

HAROLD 99

there was an instinctive and prophetic feeling through-
out the English nation, that with the House of God-
win was identified the cause of the English people.
Everything in this man's aspect served to plead in his
favour. His ample brows were calm with benignity
and thought; his large dark blue eyes were serene and
mild, though their expression, when examined, was
close and inscrutable. His mien was singularly noble,
but wholly without fcrmality or affected state; and
though haughtiness and arrogance were largely at-
tributed to him, they could be found only in his deeds,
not manner — plain, familiar, kindly to all men, his
heart seemed as open to the service of his countrymen
as his hospitable door to their wants.

Behind him stood the stateliest group of sons that
ever filled with pride a father's eye. Each strikingly
distinguished from the other, all remarkable for
beauty of countenance and strength of frame.

Sweyn, the eldest,1 had the dark hues of his mother
the Dane: a wild and mournful majesty sat upon feat-
ures aquiline and regular, but wasted by grief or pas-
sion; raven locks, glossy even in neglect, fell half over
eyes hollow in their sockets, but bright, though with
troubled fire. Over his shoulder he bore his mighty
axe. His form, spare, but of immense power, was

1 Some of our historians erroneously represent Harold as
the eldest son. But Florence, the best authority we have, in
Jhe silence of the Saxon Chronicle, as well as Knyghton, dis-
tinctly states Sweyn to be the eldest ; Harold was the second,
and Tostig was the third. Sweyn's seniority seems corrobo-
rated by the greater importance of his earldom. The Norman
chroniclers, in their spite to Harold, wish to make him junior
to Tostig — for the reasons evident at the close of this work.
And the Norwegian chronicler, Snorro Sturleson, says that
Harold was the youngest of all the sons; so little was really
known, or cared to be accurately known, of that great house
which so nearly founded a new dynasty of English kings.

ioo HAROLD

sheathed in mail, and he leant on his great pointed
Danish shield. At his feet sate his young son Haco,
a boy with a countenance preternaturally thoughtful
for his years, which were yet those of childhood.

Next to him stood the most dreaded and ruthless of
the sons of Godwin — he, fated to become to the Saxon
what Julian was to the Goth. With his arms folded
on his breast stood Tostig; his face was beautiful as
a Greek's, in all save the forehead, which was low and
lowering. Sleek and trim were his bright chestnut
locks; and his arms were damascened with silver, for
he was one who loved the pomp and luxury of war.

Wolnoth, the mother's favourite, seemed yet in the
first flower of youth, but he alone of all the sons had
something irresolute and effeminate in his aspect and
bearing; his form, though tall, had not yet come to
its full height and strength; and, as if the weight of
mail were unusual to him, he leant with both hands
upon the wood of his long spear. Leofwine, who
stood next to Wolnoth, contrasted him notably; his
sunny locks wreathed carelessly over a white un-
clouded brow, and the silken hair on the upper lip
quivered over arch lips, smiling, even in that serious
hour.

At Godwin's right hand, but not immediately near
him, stood the last of the group, Gurth and Harold.
Gurth had passed his arm over the shoulder of his
brother, and, not watching the nuncius while he spoke,
watched only the effect his words produced on the
face of Harold. For Gurth loved Harold as Jona-
than loved David. And Harold was the only one of
the group not armed ; and had a veteran skilled in war
been asked who of that group was born to lead armed
men, he would have pointed to the man unarmed.

HAROLD 101

" So what says the King? " asked Earl Godwin.

"This; he refuses to restore thee and thy sons, or
to hear thee, till thou hast disbanded thine army, dis-
missed thy ships, and consented to clear thyself and
thy house before the Witanagemot."

A fierce laugh broke from Tostig; Sweyn's mourn-
ful brow grew darker; Leofwine placed his right hand
on his ateghar; Wolnoth rose erect; Gurth kept his
eyes on Harold, and Harold's face was unmoved.

" The King received thee in his council of war,"
said Godwin, thoughtfully, " and doubtless the Nor-
mans were there. Who were the Englishmen most
of mark?"

" Siward of Northumbria, thy foe."

" My sons," said the Earl, turning to his children,
and breathing loud as if a load were off his heart;
" there will be no need of axe or armour to-day. Har-
old alone was wise," and he pointed to the linen tunic
of the son thus cited.

" What mean you, Sir Father? " said Tostig, im-
periously. " Think you to '

"Peace, son, peace;" said Godwin, without asper-
ity, but with conscious command. " Return, brave
and dear friend," he said to Vebba, " find out Siward
the Earl; tell him that I, Godwin, his foe in the old
time, place honour and life in his hands, and what he
counsels that will we do. — Go."

The Kent man nodded, and regained his boat.
Then spoke Harold.

" Father, yonder are the forces of Edward ; as yet
without leaders, since the chiefs must still be in the
halls of the King. Some fiery Norman amongst
them may provoke an encounter; and this city of Lon-
don is not won, as it behoves us to win it, if one drop

102 HAROLD

of English blood dye the sword of one English man.
Wherefore, with your leave, I will take boat, and land.
And unless I have lost in my absence all right lere in
the hearts of our countrymen, at the first shout from
our troops which proclaims that Harold, son of God-
win, is on the soil of our fathers, half yon array of
spears and helms pass at once to our side."

" And if not, my vain brother? " said Tostig, gnaw-
ing his lip with envy.

" And if not, I will ride alone into the midst of
them, and ask what Englishmen are there who will
aim shaft or spear at this breast, never mailed against
England!"

Godwin placed his hand on Harold's head, and the
tears came to those close cold eyes.

" Thou knowest by nature what I have learned by
art. Go, and prosper. Be it as thou wilt."

" He takes thy post, Sweyn — thou art the elder,"
said Tostig, to the wild form by his side.

" There is guilt on my soul, and woe in my heart,"
answered Sweyn, moodily. " Shall Esau lose his
birthright, and Cain retain it ? " So saying, he with-
drew, and, reclining against the stern of the vessel,
leant his face upon the edge of his shield.

Harold watched him with deep compassion in his
eyes, passed to his side with a quick step, pressed his
hand, and whispered, " Peace to the past, O my
brother! "

The boy Haco, who had noiselessly followed his
father, lifted his sombre, serious looks to Harold as he
thus spoke; and when Harold turned away, he said to
Sweyn, timidly, " He , at least, is ever good to thee and
to me."

" And thou, when I am no more, shalt cling to him

HAROLD 103

as thy father, Haco," answered Sweyn, tenderly
smoothing back the child's dark locks.

The boy shivered; and, bending his head, mur-
mured to himself, "When thou art no more! No
more? Has the Vala doomed him, too? Father and
son, both?"

Meanwhile, Harold had entered the boat lowered
from the sides of the aesca to receive him; and Gurth,
looking appealingly to his father, and seeing no sign
of dissent, sprang down after the young Earl, and
seated himself by his side.

Godwin followed the boat with musing eyes.

" Small need," said he, aloud, but to himself, " to
believe in soothsayers, or to credit Hilda the saga,
when she prophesied, ere we left our shores, that Har-
old " He stopped short, for Tostig's wrathful ex-
clamation broke on his reverie.

" Father, father! My blood surges in my ears, and
boils in my heart, when I hear thee name the prophe-
cies of Hilda in favour of thy darling. Dissension and
strife in our house have they wrought already; and
if the feuds between Harold and me have sown grey
in thy locks, thank thyself when, flushed with vain
soothsayings for thy favoured Harold, thou saidst, in
the hour of our first childish broil, ' Strive not with
Harold; for his brothers will be his men."1

"Falsify the prediction," said Godwin, calmly;
" wise men may always make their own future, and
seize their own fates. Prudence, patience, labour,
valour; these are the stars that rule the career of mor-
tals."

Tostig made no answer; for the splash of oars was
near, and two ships, containing the principal chiefs
that had joined Godwin's cause, came alongside the

104 HAROLD

Runic aesca to hear the result of the message sent to
the King. Tostig sprang to the vessel's side, and ex-
claimed, " The King, girt by his false counsellors, will
hear us not, and arms must decide between us."

" Hold, hold! malignant, unhappy boy! " cried God-
win, between his grinded teeth, as a shout of indig-
nant, yet joyous ferocity broke from the crowded ships
thus hailed. " The curse of all time be on him who
draws the first native blood in sight of the altars and
hearths of London! Hear me, thou with the vul-
ture's blood-lust, and the peacock's vain joy in the
gaudy plume! Hear me, Tostig, and tremble. If
but by one word thou widen the breach between me
and the King, outlaw thou enterest England, outlaw
shalt thou depart — for earldom and broad lands,
choose the bread of the stranger, and the weregeld of
the wolf!"

The young Saxon, haughty as he was, quailed at
his father's thrilling voice, bowed his head, and re-
treated sullenly. Godwin sprang on the deck of the
nearest vessel, and all the passions that Tostig had
aroused, he exerted his eloquence to appease.

In the midst of his arguments, there rose from the
ranks on the strand, the shout of " Harold ! Harold
the Earl! Harold and Holy Crosse!" And God-
win, turning his eye to the King's ranks, saw them
agitated, swayed, and moving; till suddenly, from the
very heart of the hostile array, came, as by irresistible
impulse, the cry, " Harold, our Harold ! All hail, the
good Earl!"

While this chanced without, — within the palace, Ed-
ward had quitted the presence-chamber, and was clos-
eted with Stigand, the bishop. This prelate had the
more influence with Edward, inasmuch as though

HAROLD 105

Saxon, he was held to be no enemy to the Normans,
and had, indeed, on a former occasion, been deposed
from his bishopric on the charge of too great an
attachment to the Norman queen-mother Emma.1
Never in his whole life had Edward been so stubborn
as on this occasion. For here, more than his realm
was concerned, he was threatened in the peace of his
household, and the comfort of his tepid friendships.
With the recall of his powerful father-in-law, he fore-
saw the necessary reintrusion of his wife upon the
charm of his chaste solitude. His favourite Normans
would be banished, he should be surrounded with
faces he abhorred. All the representations of Stigand
fell upon a stern and unyielding spirit, when Siward
entered the King's closet.

" Sir, my King," said the great son of Beorn, " I
yielded to your kingly will in the council, that, before
we listened to Godwin, he should disband his men,
and submit to the judgment of the Witan. The Earl
hath sent me to say, that he will put honour and life
in my keeping, and abide by my counsel. And I have
answered as became the man who will never snare a
foe, or betray a trust."

"How hast thou answered?" asked the King.

"That he abide by the laws of England, as Dane
and Saxon agreed to abide in the days of Canute ; that
he and his sons shall make no claim for land or lord-
ship, but submit all to the Witan."

" Good," said the King; " and the Witan will con-

1 Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, A.D. 1043. " Stigand was deposed
from his bishopric, and all that he possessed was seized into
the King's hands, because he was received to his mother's coun-
sel, and she went just as he advised her, as people thought."
The saintly Confessor dealt with his bishops as summarily as
Henry VIII. could have done, after his quarrel with the Pope.

106 HAROLD

demn him now, as it would have condemned when he
shunned to meet it."

" And the Witan now," returned the Earl emphat-
ically, " will be free, and fair, and just."

" And meanwhile, the troops "

" Will wait on either side ; and if reason fail, then
the sword," said Siward.

" This I will not hear," exclaimed Edward ; when
the tramp of many feet thundered along the passage;
the door was flung open, and several captains (Nor-
man as well as Saxon) of the King's troops rushed in,
wild, rude, and tumultuous.

" The troops desert ! half the ranks have thrown
down their arms at the very name of Harold!" ex-
claimed the Earl of Hereford. * Curses on the
knaves! "

" And the lithsmen of London," cried a Saxon
thegn, " are all on his side, and marching already
through the gates."

"Pause yet," whispered Stigand; "and who shall
say, this hour to-morrow, if Edward or Godwin reign
on the throne of Alfred? "

His stern heart moved by the distress of his King,
and not the less for the unwonted firmness which Ed-
ward displayed, Siward here approached, knelt, and
took the King's hand.

" Siward can give no niddering counsel to his King;
to save the blood of his subjects is never a king's dis-
grace. Yield thou to mercy, Godwin to the law! "

" Oh for the cowl and cell ! " exclaimed the Prince,
wringing his hands. " Oh Norman home, why did I
leave thee? "

He took the cross from his breast, contemplated it
fixedly, prayed silently but with fervour, and his face
again became tranquil.

HAROLD 107

" Go," he said, flinging himself on his seat in the
exhaustion that follows passion, " go, Siward, go,
Stigand, deal with things mundane as ye will."

The bishop, satisfied with this reluctant acquies-
cence, seized Siward by the arm and withdrew him
from the closet. The captains remained a few mo-
ments behind, the Saxons silently gazing on the King,
the Normans whispering each other, in great doubt
and trouble, and darting looks of the bitterest scorn
at their feeble benefactor. Then, as with one accord,
these last rushed along the corridor, gained the hall
where their countrymen yet assembled, and exclaimed,
" A touts bride! Franc etricr! — All is lost but life! —
God for the first man, — knife and cord for the last ! "

Then, as the cry of fire, or as the first crash of an
earthquake, dissolves all union, and reduces all emo-
tion into one thought of self-saving, the whole con-
clave, crowding pell-mell on each other, bustled, jos-
tled, clamoured to the door — happy he who could find
horse, palfrey, — even monk's mule! This way, that
way, fled those lordly Normans, those martial abbots,
those mitred bishops — some singly, some in pairs;
some by tens, and some by scores; but all prudently
shunning association with those chiefs whom they had
most courted the day before, and who, they now knew,
would be the main mark for revenge; save only two,
who yet, from that awe of the spiritual power which
characterised the Norman, who was already half monk,
half solder (Crusader and Templar before Crusades
were yet preached, or the Templars yet dreamed of),
— even in that hour of selfish panic rallied round them
the prowest chivalry of their countrymen, viz., the
Bishop of London and the Archbishop of Canterbury.
Both these dignitaries, armed cap-a-pie, and spear in

io8 HAROLD

hand, headed the flight; and good service that day,
both as guide and champion, did Mallet de Graville.
He led them in a circuit behind both armies, but being
intercepted by a new body, coming from the pastures
of Hertfordshire to the help of Godwin, he was com-
pelled to take the bold and desperate resort of enter-
ing the city gates. These were wide open; whether to
admit the Saxon Earls, or vomit forth their allies, the
Londoners. Through these, up the narrow streets,
riding three abreast, dashed the slaughtering fugi-
tives; worthy in flight of their national renown, they
trampled down every obstacle. Bodies of men drew
up against them at every angle, with the Saxon cry of
"Out— Out!" "Down with the outland men!"
Through each, spear pierced, and sword clove, the
way. Red with gore was the spear of the prelate of
London; broken to the hilt was the sword militant in
the terrible hand of the Archbishop of Canterbury.
So on they rode, so on they slaughtered — gained the
Eastern Gate, and passed with but two of their number
lost.

The fields once gained, for better precaution they
separated. Some few, not quite ignorant of the Saxon
tongue, doffed their mail, and crept through forest
and fell towards the sea-shore; others retained steed
and arms, but shunned equally the high roads. The
two prelates were among the last; they gained, in
safety, Ness, in Essex, threw themselves into an open,
crazy, fishing-boat, committed themselves to the
waves, and, half drowned and half famished, drifted
over the Channel to the French shores. Of the rest
of the courtly foreigners, some took refuge in the
forts yet held by their countrymen; some lay concealed
in creeks and caves till they could find or steal boats

HAROLD 109

for their passage. And thus, in the year of our Lord
1052, occurred the notable dispersion and ignomin-
ious flight of the counts and vavasours of great Will-
iam the Duke!

CHAPTER III

The Witana-gerribt was assembled in the great hall
of Westminster in all its imperial pomp.

It was on his throne that the King sate now — and
it was the sword that was in his right hand. Some
seated below, and some standing beside, the throne,
were the officers of the Basileus x of Britain. There
were to be seen camararius and pincerna, chamberlain
and cupbearer; disc thegn and hors thegn; 2 the thegn
of the dishes, and the thegn of the stud; with many
more, whose state offices may not impossibly have
been borrowed from the ceremonial pomp of the By-
zantine court; for Edgar, King of England, had in
the old time styled himself the Heir of Constantine.
Next to these sat the clerks of the chapel, with the
King's confessor at their head. Officers were they
of higher note than their name bespeaks, and wield-
ers, in the trust of the Great Seal, of a power un-
known of old, and now obnoxious to the Saxon. For
tedious is the suit which lingers for the king's writ
and the king's seal; and from those clerks shall arise
hereafter a thing of torture and of might, which shall
grind out the hearts of men, and be called CHANCERY ! 3

1 The title of Basileus was retained by our kings so late as
the time of John, who styled himself " Totius Insulae Britan-
nicae Basileus." — AGARD: On the Antiquity of Shires in Eng-
land, ap. Hearne, Cur. Disc. 2 Sharon Turner.

3 See the Introduction to PALGRAVE'S History of the Anglo-
Saxons, from which this description of the Witan is borrowed

1 10 HAROLD

Below the scribes, a space was left on the floor, and
farther down sat the chiefs of the Witan. Of these,
first in order, both from their spiritual rank and their
vast temporal possessions, sat the lords of the Church;
the chairs of the prelates of London and Canterbury
were void. But still goodly was the array of Saxon
mitres, with the harsh, hungry, but intelligent face of
Stigand, — Stigand the stout and the covetous ; and the
benign but firm features of Aired, true priest and true
patriot, distinguished amidst all. Around each prelate,
as stars round a sun, were his own special priestly re-
tainers, selected from his diocese. Farther still down
the hall are the great civil lords and vice-king vassals
of the " Lord-Paramount." Vacant the chair of the
King of the Scots, for Siward hath not yet had his
wish ; Macbeth is in his fastnesses, or listening to the
weird sisters in the wold; and Malcolm is a fugitive
in the halls of the Northumbrian earl. Vacant the
chair of the hero Gryffyth, son of Llewelyn, the dread
of the marches, Prince of Gwyned, whose arms had
subjugated all Cymry. But there are the lesser sub-
kings of Wales, true to the immemorial schisms
amongst themselves, which destroyed the realm of
Ambrosius, and rendered vain the arm of Arthur.
With their torques of gold, and wild eyes, and hair
cut round ears and brow,1 they stare on the scene.
1 On the same bench with these sub-kings, distin-
guished from them by height of stature, and calm col-
lectedness of mien, no less than by their caps of main-

so largely, that I am left without other apology for the
plagiarism, than the frank confession, that if I could have
found in others, or conceived from my own resources, a de-
scription half as graphic and half as accurate, I would only
have plagiarised to half the extent I have done.
1 Girald. Gambrensis.

HAROLD in

tenance and furred robes, are those props of strong
thrones and terrors of weak — the earls to whom shires
and counties fall, as hyde and carricate to the lesser
thegns. But three of these were then present, and all
three the foes of Godwin, — Siward, Earl of Nor-
thumbria; Leofric of Mercia (that Leofric whose wife
Godiva yet lives in ballad and song); and Rolf, Earl
of Hereford and Worcestershire, who, strong in his
claim of " king's blood," left not the court with his
Norman friends. And on the same benches, though
a little apart, are the lesser earls, and that higher order
of thegns, called king's thegns.

Not far from these sat the chosen citizens from the
free burgh of London, already of great weight in the
senate,1 — sufficing often to turn its counsels; all friends
were they of the English Earl and his house. In the
same division of the hall were found the bulk and true
popular part of the meeting — popular indeed — as rep-
resenting not the people, but the things the people
most prized — valour and wealth; the thegn landown-
ers, called in the old deeds the " Ministers: " they sate
with swords by their side, all of varying birth, fortune,
and connection, whether with king, earl, or ceorl. For
in the different districts of the old Heptarchy, the
qualification varied; high in East Anglia, low in Wes-
sex; so that what was wealth in the one shire was pov-
erty in the other. There sate, half a yeoman, the
Saxon thegn of Berkshire or Dorset, proud of his five
hydes of land; there, half an ealderman, the Danish
thegn of Norfolk or Ely, discontented with his forty;

1 Palgrave omits, I presume accidentally, these members of
the Witan, but it is clear from the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle
that the London " lithsmen " were represented in the great
National Witans, and helped to decide the election even of
kings.

U2 HAROLD

some were there in right of smaller offices under the
crown; some traders, and sons of traders, for having
crossed the high seas three times at their own risk;
some could boast the blood of Offa and Egbert; and
some traced but three generations back to neatherd
and ploughman; and some were Saxons and some
were Danes: and some from the western shires were
by origin Britons, though little cognisant of their race.
Farther down still, at the extreme end of the hall,
crowding by the open doors, filling up the space with-
out, were the ceorls themselves, a vast and not power-
less body; in these high courts (distinct from the shire
gemots, or local senates) — never called upon to vote
or to speak or to act, or even to sign names to the
doom, but only to shout " Yea, yea," when the pro-
ceres pronounced their sentence. Yet not powerless
were they, but rather to the Witan what public opin-
ion is to the Witan's successor, our modern parliament:
they were opinion! And according to their numbers
and their sentiments, easily known and boldly mur-
mured, often and often must that august court of ba-
sileus and prelate, vassal-king and mighty earl, have
shaped the council and adjudged the doom.

And the forms of the meeting had been duly said
and done; and the King had spoken words no doubt
wary and peaceful, gracious and exhortatory; but
those words — for his voice that day was weak — trav-
elled not beyond the small circle of his clerks and his
officers; and a murmur buzzed through the hall, when
Earl Godwin stood on the floor with his six sons at
his back; and you might have heard the hum of the
gnat that vexed the smooth cheek of Earl Rolf, or the
click of the spider from the web on the vaulted roof,
the moment before Earl Godwin spoke.

HAROLD 113

" If," said he, with the modest look and downcast
eye of practised eloquence, " if I rejoice once more
to breathe the air of England, in whose service, often
perhaps with faulty deeds, but at all times with honest
thoughts, I have, both in war and council, devoted
so much of my life that little now remains — but (should
you, my king, and you, prelates, proceres, and min-
isters so vouchsafe) to look round and select that spot
of my native soil which shall receive my bones; — if I
rejoice to stand once more in that assembly which has
often listened to my voice when our common country
was in peril, who here will blame that joy? Who
among my foes, if foes now I have, will not respect
the old man's gladness? Who amongst you, earls and
thegns, would not grieve, if his duty bade him say to
the grey-haired exile, ' In this English air you shall
not breathe your last sigh — on this English soil you
shall not find a grave ! ' Who amongst you would
not grieve to say it? " (Suddenly he drew up his head
and faced his audience.) " Who amongst you hath
the courage and the heart to say it? Yes, I rejoice
that I am at last in an assembly fit to judge my cause,
and pronounce my innocence. For what offence was
I outlawed? For what offence were I, and the six
sons I have given to my land, to bear the wolf's pen-
alty, and be chased and slain as the wild beasts? Hear
me, and answer!

" Eustace, Count of Boulogne, returning to his do-
mains from a visit to our lord the King, entered the
town of Dover in mail and on his war steed; his train
did the same. Unknowing our laws and customs (for
I desire to press light upon all old grievances, and will
impute ill designs to none) these foreigners invade by
force the private dwellings of citizens, and there select
VOL. I.— 8

114 HAROLD

their quarters. Ye all know that this was the strong-
est violation of Saxon right; ye know that the meanest
ceorl hath the proverb on his lip, ' Every man's house
is his castle.' One of the townsmen acting on this
belief, — which I have yet to learn was a false one, —
expelled from his threshold a retainer of the French
Earl's. The stranger drew his sword and wounded
him; blows followed — the stranger fell by the arm he
had provoked. The news arrives to Earl Eustace; he
and his kinsmen spur to the spot; they murder the
Englishman on his hearth-stone. — "

Here a groan, half-stifled and wrathful, broke from
the ceorls at the end of the hall. Godwin held up his
hand in rebuke of the interruption, and resumed.

" This deed done, the outlanders rode through the
streets with their drawn swords; they butchered those
who came in their way; they trampled even children
under their horses' feet. The burghers armed. I
thank the Divine Father, who gave me for my coun-
trymen those gallant burghers! They fought, as we
English know how to fight; they slew some, nineteen
or score of these mailed intruders; they chased them
from the town. Earl Eustace fled fast. Earl Eustace,
we know, is a wise man: small rest took he, little bread
broke he, till he pulled rein at the gate of Gloucester,
where my lord the King then held court. He made
his complaint. My lord the King, naturally hearing
but one side, thought the burghers in the wrong; and,
scandalised that such high persons of his own kith
should be so aggrieved, he sent for me, in whose
government the burgh of Dover is, and bade me chas-
tise, by military execution, those who had attacked the
foreign Count. I appeal to the great Earls whom I
see before me — to you, illustrious Leofric; to you,

HAROLD US

renowned Siward — what value would ye set on your
earldoms, if ye had not the heart and the power to
see right done to the dwellers therein?

" What was the course I proposed? Instead of mar-
tial execution, which would involve the whole burgh
in one sentence, I submitted that the reeve and gerefas
of the burgh should be cited to appear before the King,
and account for the broil. My lord, though ever most
clement and loving to his good people, either unhap-
pily moved against me, or overswayed by the for-
eigners, was counselled to reject this mode of doing
justice, which our laws, as settled under Edgar and
Canute, enjoin. And because I would not, — and I
say in the presence of all, because I, Godwin, son of
Wolnoth, durst not, if I would, have entered the free
burgh of Dover with mail on my back and the dooms-
man at my right hand, these outlanders induced my
lord the King to summon me to attend in person (as
for a sin of my own) the council of the Witan, con-
vened at Gloucester, then filled with the foreigners,
not, as I humbly opined, to do justice to me and my
folk of Dover, but to secure to this Count of Bou-
logne a triumph over English liberties, and sanction
his scorn for the value of English lives.

" I hesitated, and was menaced with outlawry; I
armed in self-defence, and in defence of the laws of
England; I armed, that men might not be murdered
on their hearth-stones, nor children trampled under
the hoofs of a stranger's war-steed. My lord the King
gathered his troops round ' the cross and the mart-
lets.' Yon noble earls, Siward and Leofric, came to
that standard, as (knowing not then my cause) was
their duty to the Basileus of Britain. But when they
knew my cause, and saw with me the dwellers of the

ii6 HAROLD

land, against me the outland aliens, they righteously
interposed. An armistice was concluded; I agreed to
refer all matters to a Witan held where it is held this
day. My troops were disbanded; but the foreigners
induced my lord not only to retain his own, but to
issue his Herr-bann for the gathering of hosts far and
near, even allies beyond the seas. When I looked to
London for the peaceful Witan, what saw I? The
largest armament that had been collected in this reign
— that armament headed by Norman knights. Was
this the meeting where justice could be done mine
and me? Nevertheless, what was my offer? That
I and my six sons would attend, provided the usual
sureties, agreeable to our laws, from which only
thieves x are excluded, were given that we should
come and go life-free and safe. Twice this offer was
made, twice refused; and so I and my sons were ban-
ished. We went; — we have returned!"

" And in arms," murmured Earl Rolf, son-in-law to
that Count Eustace of Boulogne, whose violence had
been temperately and truly narrated.2

"And in arms," repeated Godwin: "true; in arms
against the foreigners who had thus poisoned the ear
of our gracious King; in arms, Earl Rolf; and at the
first clash of those arms, Franks and foreigners have
fled. We have no need of arms now. We are
amongst our countrymen, and no Frenchman inter-
poses between us and the ever gentle, ever generous
nature of our born King.

" Peers and proceres, chiefs of this Witan, perhaps
the largest ever yet assembled in man's memory, it is

1 By Athelstan's law, every man was to have peace going to
and from the Witan, unless he was a thief. — WILKINS, p. 137.

2 Goda, Edward's sister, married first Rolf's father, Count
of Mantes; secondly, the Count of Boulogne.

HAROLD 117

for you to decide whether I and mine, or the foreign
fugitives, caused the dissensions in these realms;
whether our banishment was just or not; whether in
our return we have abused the power we possessed.
Ministers, on those swords by your sides there is not
one drop of blood! At all events, in submitting to
you our fate, we submit to our own laws and our own
race. I am here to clear myself, on my oath, of deed
and thought of treason. There are amongst my peers
as king's thegns, those who will attest the same on my
behalf, and prove the facts I have stated, if they are
not sufficiently notorious. As for my sons, no crime
can be alleged against them, unless it be a crime to
have in their veins that blood which flows in mine —
blood which they have learned from me to shed in
defence of that beloved land to which they now ask
to be recalled."

The Earl ceased and receded behind his children,
having artfully, by his very abstinence from the more
heated eloquence imputed to him often as a fault and
a wile, produced a powerful effect upon an audience
already prepared for his acquittal.

But now as, from the sons, Sweyn the eldest stepped
forth, with a wandering eye and uncertain foot, there
was a movement like a shudder amongst the large
majority of the audience, and a murmur of hate or of
horror.

The young Earl marked the sensation his presence
produced, and stopped short. His breath came thick;
he raised his right hand, but spoke not. His voice
died on his lips; his eyes roved wildly round with a
haggard stare more imploring than defying. Then
rose, in his episcopal stole, Aired the bishop, and his
clear sweet voice trembled as he spoke.

n8 HAROLD

" Comes Sweyn, son of Godwin, here to prove his
innocence of treason against the King? — if so, let him
hold his peace; for if the Witan acquit Godwin, son
of Wolnoth, of that charge, the acquittal includes his
House. But in the name of the holy Church here
represented by its fathers, will Sweyn say, and fasten
his word by oath, that he is guiltless of treason to the
King of Kings — guiltless of sacrilege that my lips
shrink to name? Alas, that the duty falls on me, — for
I loved thee once, and love thy kindred now. But I
am God's servant before all things " — the prelate
paused, and gathering up new energy, added in un-
faltering accents, " I charge thee here, Sweyn the out-
law, that, moved by the fiend, thou didst bear off from
God's house and violate a daughter of the Church —
Algive, Abbess of Leominster!"

" And I," cried Siward, rising to the full height of
his stature, " I, in the presence of these proceres,
whose proudest title is milites or warriors — I charge
Sweyn, son of Godwin, that, not in open field and
hand to hand, but by felony and guile, he wrought the
foul and abhorrent murder of his cousin, Beorn the
Earl!"

At these two charges from men so eminent, the ef-
fect upon the audience was startling. While those
not influenced by Godwin raised their eyes, sparkling
with wrath and scorn, upon the wasted, yet still noble
face of the eldest bora, even those most zealous on
behalf of that popular House evinced no sympathy for
its heir. Some looked down abashed and mournful —
some regarded the accused with a cold, unpitying
gaze. Only perhaps among the ceorls, at the end of
the hall, might be seen some compassion on anxious
faces ; for before those deeds of crime had been bruited

HAROLD 119

abroad, none among the sons of Godwin more blithe
of mien and bold of hand, more honoured and be-
loved, than Sweyn the outlaw. But the hush that
succeeded the charges was appalling in its depth.
Godwin himself shaded his face with his mantle, and
only those close by could see that his breast heaved
and his limbs trembled. The brothers had shrunk from
the side of the accused, outlawed even amongst his
kin — all save Harold, who, strong in his blameless
name and beloved repute, advanced three strides,
amidst the silence, and, standing by his brother's side,
lifted his commanding brow above the seated judges,
but he did not speak.

Then said Sweyn the Earl, strengthened by such
solitary companionship in that hostile assemblage, —
" I might answer that for these charges in the past,
for deeds alleged as done eight long years ago, I have
the King's grace, and the inlaw's right; and that in
the Witans over which I as earl presided, no man was
twice judged for the same offence. That I hold to
be the law, in the great councils as the small."

" It is! it is! " exclaimed Godwin: his paternal feel-
ings conquering his prudence and his decorous dig-
nity. "Hold to it, my son!"

" I hold to it not," resumed the young earl, casting
a haughty glance over the somewhat blank and dis-
appointed faces of his foes, " for my law is here " — and
he smote his heart — " and that condemns me not once
alone, but evermore! Aired, O holy father, at whose
knees I once confessed my every sin,— I blame thee
not that thou first, in the Witan, liftest thy voice
against me, though thou knowest that I loved Algive
from youth upward; she, with her heart yet mine, was
given in the last year of Hardicanute, when might was

120 HAROLD

right, to the Church. I met her again, flushed with
my victories over the Walloon kings, with power in
my hand and passion in my veins. Deadly was my
sin! — But what asked I? that vows compelled should
be annulled; that the love of my youth might yet be
the wife of my manhood. Pardon, that I knew not
then how eternal are the bonds ye of the Church have
woven round those of whom, if ye fail of saints, ye
may at least make martyrs! "

He paused, and his lip curled, and his eye shot wild
fire; for in that moment his mother's blood was high
within him, and he looked and thought, perhaps, as
some heathen Dane, but the flash of the former man
was momentary, and humbly smiting his breast, he
murmured, — " Avaunt, Satan ! — yea, deadly was my
sin! And the sin was mine alone; Algive, if stained,
was blameless; she escaped — and — and died!

" The King was wroth ; and first to strive against
my pardon was Harold my brother, who now alone in
my penitence stands by my side: he strove manfully
and openly; I blamed him not: but Beorn, my cousin,
desired my earldom, and he strove against me, wilily
and in secret, — to my face kind, behind my back de-
spiteful. I detected his falsehood, and meant to de-
tain, but not to slay him. He lay bound in my ship;
he reviled and he taunted me in the hour of my gloom ;
and when the blood of the sea-kings flowed in fire
through my veins. And I lifted my axe in ire; and
my men lifted theirs, and so, — and so! — Again I say
• — Deadly was my sin!

" Think not tha£ I seek now to make less my guilt,
as I sought when I deemed that life was yet long, and
power was yet sweet. Since then I have known
worldly evil, and worldly good,- — the storm and the

HAROLD 121

shine of life; I have swept the seas, a sea-king; I have
battled with the Dane in his native land; I have almost
grasped in my right hand, as I grasped in my dreams,
the crown of my kinsman, Canute; — again, I have
been a fugitive and an exile; — again, I have been in-
lawed, and Earl of all the lands from Isis to the Wye.1
And whether in state or in penury, — whether in war
or in peace, I have seen the pale face of the nun be-
trayed, and the gory wounds of the murdered man.
Wherefore I come not here to plead for a pardon,
which would console me not, but formally to dissever
my kinsmen's cause from mine, which alone sullies
and degrades it; — I come here to say, that, coveting
not your acquittal, fearing not your judgment, I pro-
nounce mine own doom. Cap of noble, and axe of
warrior, I lay aside for ever; barefooted, and alone,
I go hence to the Holy Sepulchre; there to assoil my
soul, and implore that grace which cannot come from
man! Harold, step forth in the place of Sweyn the
first-born! And ye prelates and peers, milites and
ministers, proceed to adjudge the living! To you, and
to England, he who now quits you is the dead! "

He gathered his robe of state over his breast as a
monk his gown, and looking neither to right nor to
left, passed slowly down the hall, through the crowd,
which made way for him in awe and silence; and it
seemed to the assembly as if a cloud had gone from the
face of day.

And Godwin still stood with his face covered by his
robe.

And Harold anxiously watched the faces of the
assembly, and saw no relenting.

1 More correctly of Oxford, Somerset, Berkshire, Gloucester,
and Hereford.

122 HAROLD

And Gurth crept to Harold's side.

And the gay Leofwine looked sad.

And the young Wolnoth turned pale and trembled.

And the fierce Tostig played with his golden chain.

And one low sob was heard, and it came from the
breast of Aired the meek accuser, — God's firm but
gentle priest.

CHAPTER IV

This memorable trial ended, as the reader will have
foreseen, in the formal renewal of Sweyn's outlawry,
and the formal restitution of the Earl Godwin and his
other sons to their lands and honours, with declara-
tions imputing all the blame of the late dissensions to
the foreign favourites, and sentences of banishment
against them, except only, by way of a bitter mockery,
some varlets of low degree, such as Humphrey Cock's-
foot, and Richard son of Scrob.1

The return to power of this able and vigorous fam-
ily was attended with an instantaneous effect upon the
long-relaxed strings of the imperial government.
Macbeth heard, and trembled in his moors; Gryffyth
of Wales lit the fire-beacon on moel and craig. Earl
Rolf was banished, but merely as a nominal conces-
sion to public opinion ; his kinship to Edward sufficed

1 Yet how little safe it is for the great to despise the low-
born. This very Richard, son of Scrob, more euphoniously
styled by the Normans Richard Fitz-Scrob, settled in Here-
fordshire (he was probably among the retainers of Earl Rolf),
and on William's landing, became the chief and most active
supporter of the invader in those districts. The sentence of
banishment seems to have been mainly confined to the for-
eigners about the Court — for it is clear that many Norman
landowners and priests were still left scattered throughout
the country.

HAROLD 123

to restore him soon, not. only to England, but to the
lordship of the Marches, and thither was he sent, with
adequate force, against the Welch, who had half-re-
possessed themselves of the borders they harried.
Saxon prelates and abbots replaced the Norman fugi-
tives; and all were contented with the revolution, save
the King, for the King lost his Norman friends, and
regained his English wife.

In conformity with the usages of the times, hostages
of the loyalty and faith of Godwin were required and
conceded. They were selected from his own family;
and the choice fell on Wolnoth, his son, and Haco,
the son of Sweyn. As, when nearly all England may
be said to have repassed to the hands of Godwin, it
would have been an idle precaution to consign these
hostages to the keeping of Edward, it was settled,
after some discussion, that they should be placed in
the Court of the Norman Duke until such time as the
King, satisfied with the good faith of the family, should
authorise their recall: — Fatal hostage, fatal ward and
host!

It was some days after this national crisis, and order
and peace were again established in city and land, for-
est and shire, when, at the setting of the sun, Hilda
stood alone by the altar-stone of Thor.

The orb was sinking red and lurid, amidst long
cloud-wracks of vermeil and purple, and not one hu-
man form was seen in the landscape, save that tall and
majestic figure by the Runic shrine and the Druid
crommell. She was leaning both hands on her wand,
or seid-staff, as it was called in the language of Scan-
dinavian superstition, and bending slightly forward as
in the attitude of listening or expectation. Long be-
fore any form appeared on the road below she seemed

124 HAROLD

to be aware of coming footsteps, and probably her
habits of life had sharpened her senses; for she smiled,
muttered to herself, " Ere it sets! " and changing her
posture, leant her arm on the altar, and rested her face
upon her hand.

At length, two figures came up the road; they neared
the hill; they saw her, and slowly ascended the knoll.
The one was dressed in the serge of a pilgrim, and
his cowl thrown back, showed the face where human
beauty and human power lay ravaged and ruined by
human passions. He upon whom the pilgrim lightly
leaned was attired simply, without the brooch or brace-
let common to thegns of high degree, yet his port was
that of majesty, and his brow that of mild command.
A greater contrast could not be conceived than that
between these two men, yet united by a family like-
ness. For the countenance of the last described was,
though sorrowful at that moment, and indeed habitu-
ally not without a certain melancholy, wonderfully im-
posing from its calm and sweetness. There, no de-
vouring passions had left the cloud or ploughed the
line; but all the smooth loveliness of youth took dig-
nity from the conscious resolve of men. The long
hair, of a fair brown, with a slight tinge of gold, as
the last sunbeams shot through its luxuriance, was
parted from the temples, and fell in large waves half
way to the shoulder. The eyebrows, darker in hue,
arched and finely traced; the straight features, not less
manly than the Norman, but less strongly marked:
the cheek, hardy with exercise and exposure, yet still
retaining somewhat of youthful bloom under the pale
bronze of its sunburnt surface: the form tall, not gi-
gantic, and vigorous rather from perfect proportion
and athletic habits than from breadth and bulk — were

HAROLD 125

all singularly characteristic of the Saxon beauty in its
highest and purest type. But what chiefly distin-
guished this personage, was that peculiar dignity, so
simple, so sedate, which no pomp seems to dazzle,
no danger to disturb; and which perhaps arises from a
strong sense of self-dependence, and is connected with
self-respect — a dignity common to the Indian and the
Arab, and rare except in that state of society in which
each man is a power in himself. The Latin tragic
poet touches close upon that sentiment in the fine

lines —

" Rex est qui metuit nihil ;
Hoc regnum sibi quisque dat." *

So stood the brothers, Sweyn the outlaw and Harold
the Earl, before the reputed prophetess. She looked
on both with a steady eye, which gradually softened
almost into tenderness, as it finally rested upon the
pilgrim.

" And is it thus," she said at last, " that I see the
first-born of Godwin the fortunate, for whom so often
I have tasked the thunder, and watched the setting
sun? for whom my runes have been graven on the
bark of the elm, and the Scin-laeca 2 been called in pale
splendour from the graves of the dead?"

" Hilda," said Sweyn, " not now will I accuse thee
of the seeds thou hast sown: the harvest is gathered
and the sickle is broken. Abjure thy dark Galdra,8
and turn as I to the sole light in the future, which
shines from the tomb of the Son Divine."

1 SENECA, Thyest. Act ii. — " He is a king who fears nothing;
that kingdom every man gives to himself."

2 Scin-laeca, literally a shining corpse ; a species of appari-
tion invoked by the witch or wizard. — See SHARON TURNER ott
The Superstitions of the Anglo-Saxons, b. ii. c. 14.

8 Galdra, magic.

126 HAROLD

The Prophetess bowed her head and replied:

" Belief cometh as the wind. Can the tree say to
the wind, ' Rest thou on my boughs/ or Man to Be-
lief, 'Fold thy wings on my heart'? Go where thy
soul can find comfort, for thy life hath passed from its
use on earth. And when I would read thy fate, the
runes are as blanks, and the wave sleeps unstirred on
the fountain. Go where the Fylgia,1 whom Alfader
gives to each at his birth, leads thee. Thou didst de-
sire love that seemed shut from thee, and I predicted
that thy love should awake from the charnel in which
the creed that succeeds to the faith of our sires inters
life in its bloom. And thou didst covet the fame of
the Jarl and the Viking, and I blessed thine axe to
thy hand, and wove the sail for thy masts. So long
as man knows desire, can Hilda have power over his
doom. But when the heart lies in ashes, I raise but
a corpse, that at the hush of the charm falls again into
its grave. Yet, come to me nearer, O Sweyn, whose
cradle I rocked to the chant of my rhyme."

The outlaw turned aside his face, and obeyed.

She sighed as she took his passive hand in her
own, and examined the lines on the palm. Then, as
if by an involuntary impulse of fondness and pity, she
put aside his cowl and kissed his brow.

" Thy skein is spun, and happier than the many
who scorn, and the few who lament thee, thou shalt
win where they lose. The steel shall not smite thee,
the storm shall forbear thee, the goal that thou yearn-
est for thy steps shall attain. Night hallows the ruin,
— and peace to the shattered wrecks of the brave! "

The outlaw heard as if unmoved. But when he

1 Fylgia, tutelary divinity. See Note (H), at the end of the
volume.

HAROLD 127

turned to Harold, who covered his face with his hand,
but could not restrain the tears that flowed through the
clasped ringers, a moisture came into his own wild,
bright eyes, and he said, " Now, my brother, farewell,
for no farther step shalt thou wend with me."

Harold started, opened his arms, and the outlaw
fell upon his breast.

No sound was heard save a single sob, and so close
was breast to breast, that you could not say from
whose heart it came. Then the outlaw wrenched him-
self from the embrace, and murmured, " And Haco
— my son — motherless, fatherless — hostage in the
land of the stranger! Thou wilt remember — thou wilt
shield him; thou be to him mother, father in the days
to come! So may the saints bless thee! " With
these words he sprang down the hillock.

Harold bounded after him; but Sweyn, halting, said,,
mournfully, " Is this thy promise? Am I so lost that
faith should be broken even with thy father's son?"

At that touching rebuke, Harold paused, and the
outlaw passed his way alone. As the last glimpse of
his figure vanished at the turn of the road, whence, on
the second of May, the Norman Duke and the Saxon
King had emerged side by side, the short twilight
closed abruptly, and up from the far forestland rose
the moon.

Harold stood rooted to the spot, and still gazing
on the space, when the Vala laid her hand on his arm.

" Behold, as the moon rises on the troubled gloam-
ing, so rises the fate of Harold, as yon brief, human
shadow, halting between light and darkness, passes
away to night. Thou art now the first-born of a
House that unites the hopes of the Saxon with the for-
tunes of the Dane."

128 HAROLD

" Thinkest thou," said Harold, with a stern com-
posure, " that I can have joy and triumph in a brother's
exile and woe? "

" Not now, and not yet, will the voice of thy true
nature be heard; but the warmth of the sun brings the
thunder, and the glory of fortune wakes the storm of
the soul."

" Kinswoman," said Harold, with a slight curl of
his lip, " by me at least have thy prophecies ever
passed as the sough of the air; neither in horror nor
with faith do I think of thy incantations and charms;
and I smile alike at the exorcism of the shaveling and
the spells of the Saga. I have asked thee not to bless
mine axe, nor weave my sail. No runic rhyme is on
the sword-blade of Harold. I leave my fortunes to
the chance of mine own cool brain and strong arm.
Vala, between thee and me there is no bond."

The Prophetess smiled loftily.

"And what thinkest thou, O self-dependent! what
thinkest thou is the fate which thy brain and thine arm
shall win?"

" The fate they have won already. I see no Be-
yond. The fate of a man sworn to guard his country,
love justice, and do right."

The moon shone full on the heroic face of the young
Earl as he spoke ; and " on its surface there seemed
nought to belie the noble words. Yet, the Prophetess,
gazing earnestly on that fair countenance, said, in a
whisper, that, despite a reason singularly sceptical for
the age in which it had been cultured, thrilled to the
Saxon's heart, " Under that calm eye sleeps the soul
of thy sire, and beneath that brow, so haught and so
pure, works the genius that crowned the kings of the
north in the lineage of thy mother the Dane."

HAROLD 129

" Peace ! " said Harold, almost fiercely ; then, as if
ashamed of the weakness of his momentary irrita-
tion, he added, with a faint smile, " Let us not talk of
these matters while my heart is still sad and away from
the thoughts of the world, with my brother the lonely
outlaw. Night is on us, and the ways are yet un-
safe; for the king's troops, disbanded in haste, were
made up of many who turn to robbers in peace.
Alone, and unarmed, save my ateghar, I would crave
a night's rest under thy roof; and " — he hesitated, and
as light blush came over his cheek — " and I would fain
see if your grandchild is as fair as when I last looked
on her blue eyes, that then wept for Harold ere he
went into exile."

" Her tears are not at her command, nor her
smiles," said the Vala, solemnly; " her tears flow from
the fount of thy sorrows, and her smiles are the beams
from thy joys. For know, O Harold! that Edith is
thine earthly Fylgia; thy fate and her fate are as one.
And vainly as man would escape from his shadow,
would soul wrench itself from the soul that Skulda
hath linked to his doom."

Harold made no reply; but his step, habitually slow,
grew more quick and light, and this time his reason
found no fault with the oracles of the Vala.

CHAPTER V

As Hilda entered the hall, the various idlers accus-
tomed to feed at her cost were about retiring, some
to their homes in the vicinity, some, appertaining to
the household, to the dormitories in the old Roman
villa.

VOL. I.— p

130 HAROLD

It was not the habit of the Saxon noble, as it was
of the Norman, to put hospitality to profit, by regard-
ing his guests in the light of armed retainers. Liberal
as the Briton, the cheer of the board and the shelter
of the roof were afforded with a hand equally unselfish
and indiscriminate ; and the doors of the more wealthy
and munificent might be almost literally said to stand
open from morn to eve.

As Harold followed the Vala across the vast atrium,
his face was recognised, and a shout of enthusiastic
welcome greeted the popular Earl. The only voices
that did not swell that cry were those of three monks
from a neighbouring convent, who chose to wink at
the supposed practices of the Morthwyrtha,1 from the
affection they bore to her ale and mead, and the grati-
tude they felt for her ample gifts to their convent.

" One of the wicked House, brother," whispered the
monk.

" Yea; mockers and scorners are Godwin and his
lewd sons," answered the monk

And all three sighed and scowled, as the door closed
on the hostess and her stately guest.

Two tall and not ungraceful lamps lighted the same
chamber in which Hilda was first presented to the
reader. The handmaids were still at their spindles,
and the white web nimbly shot as the mistress entered.
She paused, and her brow knit, as she eyed the work.

" But three parts done? " she said, " weave fast, and
weave strong."

Harold, not heeding the maids or their task, gazed

inquiringly round, and from a nook near the window,

Edith sprang forward with a joyous cry, and a face all

glowing with delight — sprang forward, as if to the

1 Morthwyrtha, worshipper of the dead.

HAROLD 131

arms of a brother; but, within a step or so of that noble
guest, she stopped short, and her eyes fell to the
ground.

Harold held his breath in admiring silence. The
child he had loved from her cradle stood before him
as a woman. Even since we last saw her, in the in-
terval between the spring and the autumn, the year
had ripened the youth of the maiden, as it had mel-
lowed the fruits of the earth; and her cheek was
rosy with the celestial blush, and her form rounded
to the nameless grace, which say that infancy is no
more.

He advanced and took her hand, but for the first
time in his life in their greetings, he neither gave nor
received the kiss.

" You are no child now, Edith," said he, involun-
tarily; "but still set apart, I pray you, some remains
of the old childish love for Harold."

Edith's charming lips smiled softly; she raised her
eyes to his, and their innocent fondness spoke through
happy tears.

But few words passed in the short interval between
Harold's entrance and his retirement to the cham-
ber prepared for him in haste. Hilda herself led him
to a rude ladder which admitted to a room above, evi-
dently added, by some Saxon lord, to the old Roman
pile. The ladder showed the precaution of one ac-
customed to sleep in the midst of peril ; for, by a kind
of windlass in the room, it could be drawn up at the
inmate's will, and, so drawn, left below a dark and
deep chasm, delving down to the foundations of the
house; nevertheless the room itself had all the luxury
of the time; the bedstead was quaintly carved, and of
some rare wood; a trophy of arms — though very an-

132 HAROLD

cient, sedulously polished — hung on the wall. There
were the small round shield and spear of the earlier
Saxon, with his visorless hemi, and the short curved
knife or saex,1 from which some antiquarians deem
. that the Saxish men take their renowned name.

Edith, following Hilda, proffered to the guest, on a
salver of gold, spiced wines and confections; while
Hilda, silently and unperceived, waved her seid staff
over the bed, and rested her pale hand on the pillow.

" Nay, sweet cousin," said Harold, smiling, " this is
not one of the fashions of old, but rather, methinks,
borrowed from the Prankish manners in the court of
King Edward."

" Not so, Harold," answered Hilda, quickly turning;
" such was ever the ceremony due to Saxon king,
when he slept in a subject's house, ere our kinsmen
the Danes introduced that unroyal wassail, which left
subject and king unable to hold or to quaff cun, when
the board was left for the bed."

" Thou rebukest, O Hilda, too tauntingly, the pride
of Godwin's house, when thou givest to his homely
son the ceremonial of a king. But, so served, I envy
not kings, fair Edith."

He took the cup, raised it to his lips, and when he
placed it on the small table by his side the women had
left the chamber, and he was alone. He stood for
some minutes absorbed in reverie, and his soliloquy
ran somewhat thus:

" Why said the Vala that Edith's fate was inwoven

1 It is a disputed question whether the saex of the earliest
Saxon invaders was a long or short curved weapon, — nay,
whether it was curved or straight; but the author sides with
those who contend that it was a short, crooked weapon, easily
concealed by a cloak, and similar to those depicted on the
banner of the East Saxons.

HAROLD 133

with mine? And why did I believe and bless the Vala,
when she so said? Can Edith ever be my wife? The
monk-king designs her for the cloister — Woe, and
well-a-day! — Sweyn, Sweyn, let thy doom forewarn
me! And if I stand up in my place and say, ' Give
age and grief to the cloister — youth and delight to
man's hearth,' what will answer the monks? ' Edith
cannot be thy wife, son of Godwin, for faint and scarce
traced though your affinity of blood, ye are within
the banned degrees of the Church. Edith may be
wife to another, if thou wilt, — barren spouse of the
Church or mother of children who lisp not Harold's
name as their father.' Out on these priests with their
mummeries, and out on their war upon human
hearts!"

His fair brow grew stern and fierce as the Norman
Duke's in his ire; and had you seen him at the mo-
ment you would have seen the true brother of Sweyn.
He broke from his thoughts with the strong effort of
a man habituated to self-control, and advanced to the
narrow window, opened the lattice, and looked out.

The moon was in all her splendour. The long deep
shadows of the breathless forest checkered the silvery
whiteness of open sward and intervening glade.
Ghostly arose on the knoll before him the grey col-
umns of the mystic Druid, — dark and indistinct the
bloody altar of the Warrior god. But there his eye
was arrested; for whatever is least distinct and de-
fined in a landscape has the charm that is the strong-
est; and, while he gazed, he thought that a pale phos-
phoric light broke from the mound with the bautastein,
that rose by the Teuton altar. He thought, for he was
not sure that it was not some cheat of the fancy. Gaz-
ing still, in the centre of that light there appeared to

134 HAROLD

gleam forth, for one moment, a form of superhuman
height. It was the form of a man, that seemed clad
in arms like those on the wall, leaning on a spear,
whose point was lost behind the shafts of the crom-
mell. And the face grew in that moment distinct
from the light which shimmered around it, a face large ,
as some early god's, but stamped with unutterable and
solemn woe. He drew back a step, passed his hand
over his eyes, and looked again. Light and figure
alike had vanished; nought was seen save the grey col-
umns and dim fane. The Earl's lip curved in derision
of his weakness. He closed the lattice, undressed,
knelt for a moment or so by the bedside, and his
prayer was brief and simple, nor accompanied with
the crossings and signs customary in his age. He
rose, extinguished the lamp, and threw himself on the
bed.

The moon, thus relieved of the lamp-light, came
clear and bright through the room, shone on the
trophied arms, and fell upon Harold's face, casting its
brightness on the pillow on which the Vala had
breathed her charm. And Harold slept — slept long —
his face calm, his breathing regular: but ere the moon
sunk and the dawn rose the features were dark and
troubled, the breath came by gasps, the brow was knit,
and the teeth clenched.

BOOK IV

THE HEATHEN ALTAR AND THE SAXON CHURCH

CHAPTER I

While Harold sleeps, let us here pause to survey
for the first time the greatness of that House to which
Sweyn's exile had left him the heir. The fortunes of
Godwin had been those which no man not eminently
versed in the science of his kind can achieve. Though
the fable which some modern historians of great name
have repeated and detailed, as to his early condition
as the son of a cow-herd, is utterly groundless,1 and
he belonged to a house all-powerful at the time of his
youth, he was unquestionably the builder of his own
greatness. That he should rise so high in the early
part of his career was less remarkable than that he
should have so long continued the possessor of a
power and state in reality more than regal.

But, as has been before implied, Godwin's civil ca-
pacities were more prominent than his warlike. And
this it is which invests him with that peculiar interest
which attracts us to those who knit our modern in-
telligence with the past. In that dim world before
the Norman deluge, we are startled to recognise the
gifts that ordinarily distinguish a man of peace in a
civilised age.

1 See Note (I), at the end of the volume.

136 HAROLD

His father, Wolnoth, had been " Childe " 1 of the
South Saxons, or thegn of Sussex, a nephew of Edric
Streone, Earl of Mercia, the unprincipled but able min-
ister of Ethelred, who betrayed his master to Canute,
by whom, according to most authorities, he was right-
eously, though not very legally, slain as a reward for
the treason.

" I promised," said the Dane king, " to set thy head
higher than other men's, and I keep my word." The
trunkless head was set on the gates of London.

Wolnoth had quarrelled with his uncle Brightric,
Edric's brother, and before the arrival of Canute, had
beteken himself to the piracy of a sea chief, seduced
twenty of the king's ships, plundered the southern
coasts, burnt the royal navy, and then his history dis-
appears from the chronicles; but immediately after-
wards the great Danish army, called Thurkell's Host,
invaded the coast, and kept their chief station on the
Thames. Their victorious arms soon placed the
country almost at their command. The traitor Edric
joined them with a power of more than 10,000 men;
and it is probable enough that the ships of Wolnoth
had before this time melted amicably into the arma-
ment of the Danes. If this, which seems the most
likely conjecture, be received, Godwin, then a mere
youth, would naturally have commenced his career in
the cause of Canute; and as the son of a formidable

1 Saxon Chronicle, Florence Wigorn. Sir F. Palgrave says
that the title of Childe is equivalent to that of Atheling. With
that remarkable appreciation of evidence which generally makes
him so invaluable as a judicial authority where accounts are
contradictory, Sir F. Palgrave discards with silent contempt
the absurd romance of Godwin's station of herdsman, to which,
upon such very fallacious and flimsy authorities, Thierry and
Sharon Turner have been betrayed into lending their distin-
guished names.

HAROLD 137

chief of thegn's rank, and even as kinsman to Edric,
who, whatever his crimes, must have retained a party
it was wise to conciliate, Godwin's favour with Canute,
whose policy would lead him to show marked distinc-
tion to any able Saxon follower, ceases to be surpris-
ing.

The son of Wolnoth accompanied Canute in his mil-
itary expedition to the Scandinavian continent, and
here a signal victory, planned by Godwin and exe-
cuted solely by himself and the Saxon band under his
command, without aid from Canute's Danes, made
the most memorable military exploit of his life, and
confirmed his rising fortunes.

Edric, though he is said to have been low born, had
married the sister of King Ethelred; and as Godwin
advanced in fame, Canute did not disdain to bestow
his own sister in marriage on the eloquent favourite,
who probably kept no small portion of the Saxon
population to their allegiance. On the death of this,
his first wife, who bore him but one son * (who died
by accident), he found a second spouse in the same
royal house; and the mother of his six living sons
and two daughters was the niece of his king, and sis-
ter of Sweyn, who subsequently filled the throne of
Denmark. After the death of Canute, the Saxon's
predilections in favour of the Saxon line became ap-
parent; but it was either his policy or his principles
always to defer to the popular will as expressed in the
national council; and on the preference given by the
Witan to Harold the son of Canute over the heirs of
Ethelred, he yielded his own inclinations. The great

1 This first wife Thyra, was of very unpopular repute with
the Saxons. She was accused of sending young English per-
sons as slaves into Denmark, and is said to have been killed
by lightning.

138 HAROLD

power of the Danes, and the amicable fusion of their
race with the Saxon which had now taken place, are
apparent in this decision ; for not only did Earl Leofric,
of Mercia, though himself a Saxon (as well as the Earl
of Northumbria, with the thegns north of the Thames),
declare for Harold the Dane, but the citizens of Lon-
don were of the same party; and Godwin represented
little more than the feeling of his own principality of
Wessex.

From that time, Godwin, however, became identi-
fied with the English cause; and even many who be-
lieved him guilty of some share in the murder, or at
least the betrayal, of Alfred,1 Edward's brother, sought
excuses in the disgust with which Godwin had re-
garded the foreign retinue that Alfred had brought
with him, as if to owe his throne to Norman swords,
rather than to English hearts.

Hardicanute, who succeeded Harold, whose mem-
ory he abhorred, whose corpse he disinterred and
flung into a fen,2 had been chosen by the unanimous
council both of English and Danish thegns; and de-
spite Hardicanute's first vehement accusations of God-
win, the Earl still remained throughout that reign as
powerful as in the two preceding it. When Hardi-
canute dropped down dead at a marriage banquet, it
was Godwin who placed Edward upon the throne;
and that great Earl must either have been conscious
of his innocence of the murder of Edward's brother,
or assured of his own irresponsible power, when he

1 It is just, however, to Godwin to say, that there is no proof
of his share in this barbarous transaction ; the presumptions,
on the contrary, are in his favour ; but the authorities are too
contradictory, and the whole event too obscure, to enable us
unhesitatingly to confirm the acquittal he received in his own
age, and from his own national tribunal.

2 Anglo-Saxon Chronicle.

HAROLD 139

said to the prince who knelt at his feet, and, fearful
of the difficulties in his way, implored the Earl to aid
his abdication of the throne and return to Normandy:

" You are the son of Ethelred, grandson of Edgar.
Reign, it is your duty; better to live in glory than die
in exile. You are of mature years, and having known
sorrow and need, can better feel for your people. Rely
on me, and there will be none of the difficulties you
dread; whom I favour, England favours."

And shortly afterwards, in the national assembly,
Godwin won Edward his throne. " Powerful in
speech, powerful in bringing over people to what he
desired, some yielded to his words, some to bribes." x
Verily, Godwin was a man to have risen as high, had
he lived later!

So Edward reigned, and agreeably, it is said, with
previous stipulations, married the daughter of his
king-maker. Beautiful as Edith the Queen was in mind
and in person, Edward apparently loved her not. She
dwelt in his palace, his wife only in name.

Tostig (as we have seen) had married the daughter
of Baldwin, Count of Flanders, sister to Matilda, wife
to the Norman Duke: and thus the House of Godwin
was triply allied to princely lineage — the Danish, the
Saxon, the Flemish. And Tostig might have said,
as in his heart William the Norman said, " My chil-
dren shall descend from Charlemagne and Alfred."

Godwin's life, though thus outwardly brilliant, was
too incessantly passed in public affairs and politic
schemes to allow the worldly man much leisure to
watch over the nurture and rearing of the bold spir-
its of his sons. Githa his wife, the Dane, a woman
with a haughty but noble spirit, imperfect education,
1 William of Malmesbury.

140 HAROLD

and some of the wild and lawless blood derived from
her race of heathen sea-kings, was more fitted to stir
their ambition and inflame their fancies, than curb
their tempers and mould their hearts.

We have seen the career of Sweyn; but Sweyn was
an angel of light compared to his brother Tostig. He
who can be penitent has ever something lofty in his
original nature; but Tostig was remorseless as the tiger,
as treacherous and as fierce. With less intellectual
capacities than any of his brothers, he had more per-
sonal ambition than all put together. A kind of effem-
inate vanity, not uncommon with daring natures (for
the bravest races and the bravest soldiers are usually
the vainest; the desire to shine is as visible in the fop
as in the hero), made him restless both for command
and notoriety. " May I ever be in the mouths of
men," was his favourite prayer. Like his maternal
ancestry, the Danes, he curled his long hair, and went
as a bridegroom to the feast of the ravens.

Two only of that house had studied the Humane
Letters, which were no longer disregarded by the
princes of the Continent; they were the sweet sister,
the eldest of the family, fading fast in her loveless
home, and Harold.

But Harold's mind, — in which what we call common
sense was carried to genius, — a mind singularly prac-
tical and sagacious, like his father's, cared little for
theological learning and priestly legend — for all that
poesy of religion in which the Woman was wafted
from the sorrows of earth.

Godwin himself was no favourite of the Church, and
had seen too much of the abuses of the Saxon priest-
hood, (perhaps, with few exceptions, the most cor-
rupt and illiterate in all Europe, which is saying much,)

HAROLD 141

to instil into his children that reverence for the spir-
itual authority which existed abroad; and the enlight-
enment, which in him was experience in life, was in
Harold, betimes, the result of study and reflection.
The few books of the classical world then within reach
of the student opened to the young Saxon views of
human duties and human responsibilities utterly dis-
tinct from the unmeaning ceremonials and fleshly mor-
tifications in which even the higher theology of that
day placed the elements of virtue. He smiled in scorn
when some Dane, whose life had been passed in the
alternate drunkenness of wine and of blood, thought
he had opened the gates of heaven by bequeathing
lands gained by a robber's sword, to pamper the lazy
sloth of some fifty monks. If those monks had pre-
sumed to question his own actions, his disdain would
have been mixed with simple wonder that men so be-
sotted in ignorance, and who could not construe the
Latin of the very prayers they pattered, should pre-
sume to be the judges of educated men. It is possible
— for his nature was earnest — that a pure and enlight-
ened clergy, that even a clergy, though defective in life,
zealous in duty and cultivated in mind, — such a clergy
as Alfred sought to found, and as Lanfranc endeav-
oured (not without some success) to teach — would
have bowed his strong sense to that grand and subtle
truth which dwells in spiritual authority. But as it was,
he stood aloof from the rude superstition of his age,
and early in life made himself the arbiter of his own
conscience. Reducing his religion to the simplest
elements of our creed, he found rather in the books
of Heathen authors than in the lives of the saints, his
notions of the larger morality which relates to the
citizen and the man. The love of country; the sense

142 HAROLD

of justice; fortitude in adverse and temperance in
prosperous fortune, became portions of his very mind.
Unlike his father, he played no actor's part in those
qualities which had won him the popular heart. He
was gentle and affable; above all, he was fair-dealing
and just, not because it was politic to seem, but his
nature to be, so.

Nevertheless, Harold's character, beautiful and sub-
lime in many respects as it was, had its strong leaven
of human imperfection in that very self-dependence
which was born of his reason and his pride. In
resting so solely on man's perceptions of the right,
he lost one attribute of the true hero — faith. We do
not mean that word in the religious sense alone, but
in the more comprehensive. He did not rely on the
Celestial Something pervading all nature, never seen,
only felt when duly courted, stronger and lovelier than
what eye could behold and mere reason could em-
brace. Believing, it is true, in God, he lost those fine
links that unite God to man's secret heart, and which
are woven alike from the simplicity of the child and
the wisdom of the poet. To use a modern illustration,
his large mind was a " cupola lighted from below."

His bravery, though inflexible as the fiercest sea-
king's, when need arose for its exercise, was not his
prominent characteristic. He despised the brute val-
our of Tostig, — his bravery was a necessary part of a
firm and balanced manhood — the bravery of Hector,
not Achilles. Constitutionally averse to bloodshed,
he could seem timid where daring only gratified a
wanton vanity, or aimed at a selfish object. On the
other hand, if duty demanded daring, no danger could
deter, no policy warp him; — he could seem rash; he
could even seem merciless. In the what ought to be,
he understood a must be.

HAROLD 143

And it was natural to this peculiar, yet thoroughly
English temperament, to be, in action, rather stead-
fast and patient than quick and ready. Placed in per-
ils familiar to him, nothing could exceed his vigour
and address; but if taken unawares, and before his
judgment could come to his aid, he was liable to be
surprised into error. Large minds are rarely quick,
unless they have been corrupted into unnatural vigi-
lance by the necessities of suspicion. But a nature
more thoroughly unsuspecting, more frank, trustful,
and genuinely loyal than that young Earl's, it was
impossible to conceive. All these attributes consid-
ered, we have the key to much of Harold's char-
acter and conduct in the later events of his fated and
tragic life.

But with this temperament, so manly and simple,
we are not to suppose that Harold, while rejecting the
superstitions of one class, was so far beyond his time
as to reject those of another. No son of fortune, no
man placing himself and the world in antagonism, can
ever escape from some belief in the Invisible. Caesar
could ridicule and profane the mystic rites of Roman
mythology, but he must still believe in his fortune,
as in a god. And Harold, in his very studies, seeing
the freest and boldest minds of antiquity subjected to
influences akin to those of his Saxon forefathers, felt
less shame in yielding to them, vain as they might
be, than in monkish impostures so easily detected.
Though hitherto he had rejected all direct appeal to
the magic devices of Hilda, the sound of her dark
sayings, heard in childhood, still vibrated on his soul
as man. Belief in omens, in days lucky or unlucky,
in the stars, was universal in every class of the Saxon.
Harold had his own fortunate day, the day of his na-

144 HAROLD

tivity, the I4th of October. All enterprises under-
taken on that day had hitherto been successful. He
believed in the virtue of that day, as Cromwell believed
in his 3d of September. For the rest, we have described
him as he was in that part of his career in which he
is now presented. Whether altered by fate and cir-
cumstances, time will show. As yet, no selfish am-
bition leagued with the natural desire of youth and
intellect for their fair share of fame and power. His
patriotism, fed by the example of Greek and Roman
worthies, was genuine, pure, and ardent; he could
have stood in the pass with Leonidas, or leaped into
the gulf with Curtius.

CHAPTER II

At dawn, Harold woke from uneasy and broken
slumbers, and his eyes fell upon the face of Hilda,
large, and fair, and unutterably calm, as the face of
Egyptian sphinx.

" Have thy dreams been prophetic, son of God-
win?" said the Vala.

" Our Lord forfend," replied the Earl, with unusual
devoutness.

"Tell them, and let me read the rede; sense dwells
in the voices of the night."

Harold mused, and after a short pause, he said:

" Methinks, Hilda, I can myself explain how those
dreams came to haunt me."

Then raising himself on his elbow, he continued,
while he fixed his clear penetrating eyes upon his
hostess : —

" Tell me frankly, Hilda, didst thou not cause some

HAROLD 145

light to shine on yonder knoll, by the mound and stone,
within the temple of the Druids? "

But if Harold had suspected himself to be the dupe
of some imposture, the thought vanished when he saw
the look of keen interest, even of awe, which Hilda's
face instantly assumed.

" Didst thou see a light, son of Godwin, by the altar
of Thor, and over the bautastein of the mighty dead?
a flame, lambent and livid, like moonbeams collected
over snow? "

" So seemed to me the light."

" No human hand ever kindled that flame, which
announces the presence of the Dead," said Hilda, with
a tremulous voice; "though seldom, uncompelled by
the seid and the rune, does the spectre itself warn the
eyes of the living."

" What shape, or what shadow of shape, does that
spectre assume? "

" It rises in the midst of the flame, pale as the mist
on the mountain, and vast as the giants of old; with
the saex, and the spear, and the shield, of the sons of
Woden. — Thou hast seen the Scin-laeca," continued
Hilda, looking full on the face of the Earl.

" If thou deceivest me not," began Harold, doubt-
ing still.

" Deceive thee! not to save the crown of the Saxon
dare I mock the might of the dead. Knowest thou
not — or hath thy vain lore stood in place of the lore of
thy fathers — that where a hero of old is buried, his
treasures lie in his grave; that over that grave is at
times seen at night the flame that thou sawest, and the
dead in his image of air? Oft seen in the days that are
gone, when the dead and the living had one faith —
were one race ; now never marked, but for portent, and
VOL. I. — 10

146 HAROLD

prophecy, and doom: — glory or woe to the eyes that
see! On yon knoll, JEsc (the first-born of Cerdic,
that Father-King of the Saxons,) has his grave where
the mound rises green, and the stone gleams wan by
the altar of Thor. He smote the Britons in their tem-
ple, and he fell smiting. They buried him in his arms,
and with the treasures his right hand had won. Fate
hangs on the house of Cerdic, or the realm of the
Saxon, when Woden calls the Iseca of his son from the
grave."

Hilda, much troubled, bent her face over her clasped
hands, and, rocking to and fro, muttered some runes
unintelligible to the ear of her listener. Then she
turned to him, commandingly, and said :

" Thy dreams now, indeed, are oracles, more true
than living Vala could charm with the wand and the
rune: Unfold them."

Thus adjured, Harold resumed:

" Methought, then, that I was on a broad, level
plain, in the noon of day; all was clear to my eye, and
glad to my heart. I was alone and went on my way
rejoicing. Suddenly the earth opened under my
feet, and I fell deep, fathom-deep; — deep, as if to that
central pit, which our heathen sires called Niffelheim
— the Home of Vapour — the hell of the dead who die
without glory. Stunned by the fall, I lay long, locked
as in a dream in the midst of a dream. When I opened
my eyes, behold, I was girt round with dead men's
bones; and the bones moved round me, undulating,
as the dry leaves that wirble round in the winds of the
winter. And from midst of them peered a trunkless
skull, and on the skull was a mitre, and from the yawn-
ing jaws a voice came hissing, as a serpent's hiss.
4 Harold, the scorner, thou art ours!' Then, as from

HAROLD 147

the buzz of an army, came voices multitudinous,
'Thou art ours!' I sought to rise, and behold my
limbs were bound, and the gyves were fine and frail,
as the web of the gossamer, and they weighed on me
like chains of iron. And I felt an anguish of soul
that no words can speak — an anguish both of horror
and shame; and my manhood seemed to ooze from
me, and I was weak as a child new born. Then
suddenly there rushed forth a freezing wind, as from
an air of ice, and the bones from their whirl stood
still, and the buzz ceased, and the mitred skull grinned
on me still and voiceless; and serpents darted their
arrowy tongues from the eyeless sockets. And, lo,
before me stood (O Hilda, I see it now!) the form of
the spectre that had risen from yonder knoll. With
his spear, and saex, and his shield, he stood before
me; and his face, though pale as that of one long dead,
was stern as the face of a warrior in the van of armed
men; he stretched his hand, and he smote his saex on
his shield, and the clang sounded hollow; the gyves
broke at the clash — I sprang to my feet, and I stood
side by side with the phantom, dauntless. Then, sud-
denly, the mitre on the skull changed to a helm; and
where the skull had grinned, trunkless and harmless,
stood a shape like War, made incarnate; — a Thing
above giants, with its crest to the stars and its form
an eclipse between the sun and the day. The earth
changed to ocean, and the ocean was blood, and the
ocean seemed deep as the seas where the whales sport
in the North, but the surge rose not to the knee of
that measureless image. And the ravens came round
it from all parts of the heaven, and the vultures with
the dead eyes and dull scream. And all the bones,
before scattered and shapeless, sprung to life and to

148 HAROLD

form, some monks and some warriors; and there was
a hoot, and a hiss, and a roar, and the storm of arms.
And a broad pennon rose out of the sea of blood, and
from the clouds came a pale hand, and it wrote on the
pennon, ' Harold, the Accursed! ' Then said the stern
shape by my side, ' Harold, fearest thou the dead
men's bones?' and its voice was as a trumpet that
gives strength to the craven, and I answering, ' Nid-
dering, indeed, were Harold, to fear the bones of the
dead!'

" As I spoke, as if hell had burst loose, came a gibber
of scorn, and all vanished at once, save the ocean of
blood. Slowly came from the north, over the sea, a
bird like a raven, save that it was blood-red, like the
ocean; and there came from the south, swimming
towards me, a lion. And I looked to the spectre;
and the pride of war had gone from its face, which was
so sad that methought I forgot raven and lion, and
wept to see it. Then the spectre took me in its vast
arms, and its breath froze my veins, and it kissed my
brow and my lips, and said, gently and fondly, as my
mother in some childish sickness, ' Harold, my best
beloved, mourn not. Thou hast all which the sons
of Woden dreamed in their dreams of Valhalla!'
Thus saying, the form receded slowly, slowly, still
gazing on me with its sad eyes. I stretched forth my
hand to detain it, and in my grasp was a shadowy
sceptre. And, lo! round me, as if from the earth,
sprang up thegns and chiefs, in their armour; and a
board was spread, and a wassail was blithe around
me. So my heart felt cheered and light, and in my
hand was still the sceptre. And we feasted long and
merrily; but over the feast flapped the wings of the
blood-red raven, and over the blood-red sea beyond,

HAROLD 149

swam the lion, near and near. And in the heavens
there were two stars, one pale and steadfast, the other
rushing and luminous; and a shadowy hand pointed
from the cloud to the pale star, and a voice said, ' Lo,
Harold! the star that shone on thy birth.' And an-
other hand pointed to the luminous star, and another
voice said, ' Lo, the star that shone on the birth of
the victor.' Then, lo! the bright star grew fiercer and
larger; and, rolling on with a hissing sound, as when
iron is dipped into water, it rushed over the disc of
the mournful planet, and the whole heavens seemed
on fire. So methought the dream faded away, and in
fading, I heard a full swell of music, as the swell of
an anthem in an aisle; a music like that which but
once in my life I heard; when I stood on the train of
Edward, in the halls of Winchester, the day they
crowned him king."

Harold ceased, and the Vala slowly lifted her head
from her bosom, and surveyed him in profound silence,
and with a gaze that seemed vacant and meaningless.

" Why dost thou look on me thus, and why art thou
so silent?" asked the Earl.

"The cloud is on my sight, and the burthen is on
my soul, and I cannot read thy rede," murmured the
Vala. " But morn, the ghost-chaser, that waketh life,
the action, charms into slumber life, the thought. As
the stars pale at the rising of the sun, so fade the lights
of the soul when the buds revive in the dews, and the
lark sings to the day. In thy dream lies thy future,
as the wing of the moth in the web of the changing
worm; but, whether for weal or for woe, thou shalt
burst through thy mesh, and spread thy plumes in
the air. Of myself I know nought. Await the hour
when Skulda shall pass into the soul of her servant,

ISO HAROLD

and thy fate shall rush from my lips as the rush of the
waters from the heart of the cave."

" I am content to abide," said Harold, with his
wonted smile, so calm and so lofty; "but I cannot
promise thee that I shall heed thy rede, or obey thy
warning, when my reason hath awoke, as while I
speak it awakens, from the fumes of the fancy and the
mists of the night."

The Vala sighed heavily, but made no answer.

CHAPTER III

Githa, Earl Godwin's wife, sate in her chamber, and
her heart was sad. In the room was one of her sons,
the one dearer to her than all, Wolnoth, her darling.
For the rest of her sons were stalwart and strong of
frame, and in their infancy she had known not a moth-
er's fears. But Wolnoth had come into the world
before his time, and sharp had been the travail of the
mother, and long between life and death the struggle
of the newborn babe. And his cradle had been rocked
with a trembling knee, and his pillow been bathed with
hot tears. Frail had been his childhood — a thing that
hung on her care; and now, as the boy grew, bloom-
ing and strong, into youth, the mother felt that she
had given life twice to her child. Therefore was he
more dear to her than the rest; and, therefore, as she
gazed upon him now, fair and smiling, and hopeful,
she mourned for him more than for Sweyn, the out-
cast and criminal, on his pilgrimage of woe, to the
waters of Jordan, and the tomb of our Lord. For
Wolnoth, selected as the hostage for the faith of his
house, was to be sent from her arms to the Court ot

HAROLD 151

William the Norman. And the youth smiled and was
gay, choosing vestment and mantle, and ateghars of
gold, that he might be flaunting and brave in the halls
of knighthood and the beauty, — the school of the
proudest chivalry of the Christian world. Too young,
and too thoughtless, to share the wise hate of his
elders for the manners and forms of the foreigners,
their gaiety and splendour, as his boyhood had seen
them, relieving the gloom of the cloister court, and
contrasting the spleen and the rudeness of the Saxon
temperament, had dazzled his fancy and half Nor-
manised his mind. A proud and happy boy was he,
to go as hostage for the faith, and representative of
the rank, of his mighty kinsmen; and step into man-
hood in the eyes of the dames of Rouen.

By Wolnoth's side stood his young sister, Thyra, a
mere infant; and her innocent sympathy with her
brother's pleasure in gaud and toy saddened Githa yet
more.

"O my son!" said the troubled mother, "why, of
all my children, have they chosen thee? Harold is
wise against danger, and Tostig is fierce against foes,
and Gurth is too loving to awake hate in the sternest,
and from the mirth of sunny Leofwine sorrow glints
aside, as the shaft from the sheen of a shield. But
thou, thou, O beloved! — cursed be the king that chose
thee, and cruel was the father that forgot the light of
the mother's eyes!"

" Tut, mother the dearest," said Wolnoth, pausing
from the contemplation of a silk robe, all covered with
broidered peacocks, which had been sent him as a gift
from his sister the Queen, and wrought with her own
fair hands; for a notable needle-woman, despite her
sage lere, was the wife of the Saint King, as sorrow-

552 HAROLD

ful women mostly are, — "Tut! the bird must leave
the nest when the wings are fledged. Harold the
eagle, Tostig the kite, Gurth the ring-dove, and Leof-
wine the stare. See, my wings are the richest of all,
mother, and bright is the sun in which thy peacock
shall spread his pranked plumes."

Then, observing that his liveliness provoked no
smile from his mother, he approached and said more
seriously:

" Bethink thee, mother mine. No other choice was
left to king or to father. Harold, and Tostig, and
Leofwine, have their lordships and offices. Their
posts are fixed, and they stand as the columns of our
house. And Gurth is so young, and so Saxish and
so the shadow of Harold, that his hate to the Norman
is a by-word already among our youths; for hate is
the more marked in a temper of love, as the blue of
this border seems black against the white of the woof.
But /; — the good King knows that I shall be welcome,
for the Norman knights love Wolnoth, and I have
spent hours by the knees of Montgommeri and Grant-
mesnil, listening to the feats of Rolfganger, and play-
ing with their gold chains of knighthood. And the
stout Count himself shall knight me, and I shall come
back with the spurs of gold which thy ancestors, the
brave Kings of Norway and Daneland, wore ere
knighthood was known. Come, kiss me, my mother,
and come see the brave falcons Harold has sent me:
—true Welch!"

Githa rested her face on her son's shoulder, and her
tears blinded her. The door opened gently, and Har-
old entered; and with the Earl, a pale dark-haired boy,
Haco, the son of Sweyn.

But Githa, absorbed in her darling Wolnoth, scarce

HAROLD 153

saw the grandchild reared afar from her knees, and
hurried at once to Harold. In his presence she felt
comfort and safety; for Wolnoth leant on her heart,
and her heart leant on Harold.

"O son, son!" she cried, "firmest of hand, surest
of faith, and wisest of brain, in the house of Godwin,
tell me that he yonder, he thy young brother, risks no
danger in the halls of the Normans! "

" Not more than in these, mother," answered Har-
old, soothing her, with caressing lip and gentle tone.
" Fierce and ruthless, men say, is William the Duke
against foes with their swords in their hands, but
debonnair and mild to the gentle,1 frank host and kind
lord. And these Normans have a code of their own,
more grave than all morals, more binding than even
their fanatic religion. Thou knowest it well, mother,
for it comes from thy race of the North, and this code
of honour, they call it, makes Wolnoth's head as sacred
as the relics of a saint set in zimmes. Ask only, my
brother, when thou comest in sight of the Norman
Duke, ask only ' the kiss of peace,' and, that kiss on
thy brow, thou wilt sleep more safe than if all the ban-
ners of England waved over thy couch." a

" But how long shall the exile be? " asked Githa,
comforted. Harold's brow fell.

" Mother, not even to cheer thee will I deceive. The

1 So Robert of Gloucester says pithily of William, " Kyng
Wylliam was to mild men debonnere ynou." — HEARNE, v. ii.
p. 309.

2 This kiss of peace was held singularly sacred by the Nor-
mans, and all the more knightly races of the continent. Even
the craftiest dissimulator, designing fraud, and stratagem,
and murder to a foe, would not. to gain his ends, betray the
pledge of the kiss of peace. When Henry II. consented to
meet Becket after his return from Rome, and promised to
remedy all of which his prelate complained, he struck prophetic
dismay into Becket's heart by evading the kiss of peace.

154 HAROLD

time of the hostageship rests with the King and the
Duke. As long as the one affects fear from the race
of Godwin, as long as the other feigns care for such
priests or such knights as were not banished from the
realm, being not courtiers, but scattered wide and far
in convent and homestead, so long will Wolnoth and
Haco be guests in the Norman halls."

Githa wrung her hands.

" But comfort, my mother; Wolnoth is young, his
eye is keen, and his spirit prompt and quick. He will
mark these Norman captains, he will learn their
strength and their weakness, their manner of war, and
he will come back, not as Edward the King came, a
lover of things un-Saxon, but able to warn and to
guide us against the plots of the camp-court, which
threatens more, year by year, the peace of the world.
And he will see there arts we may worthily borrow:
not the cut of a tunic, and the fold of a gonna, but the
arts of men who found states and build nations. Will-
iam the Duke is splendid and wise; merchants tell us
how crafts thrive under his iron hand, and war-men
say that his forts are constructed with skill and his
battle-schemes planned as the mason plans key-
stone and arch, with weight portioned out to the prop,
and the force of the hand made tenfold by the science
of the brain. So that the boy will return to us a man
round and complete, a teacher of greybeards, and the
sage of his kin; fit for earldom and rule, fit for glory
and England. Grieve not, daughter of the Dane
kings, that thy son, the best loved, hath nobler school
and wider field than his brothers."

This appeal touched the proud heart of the niece
of Canute the Great, and she almost forgot the grief
of her love in the hope of her ambition.

HAROLD 155

She dried her tears and smiled upon Wolnoth, and
already, in the dreams of a mother's vanity, saw him
great as Godwin in council, and prosperous as Harold
in the field. Nor, half Norman as he was, did the
young man seem insensible of the manly and elevated
patriotism of his brother's hinted lessons, though he
felt they implied reproof. He came to the Earl, whose
arm was round his mother, and said with a frank
heartiness not usual to a nature somewhat frivolous
and irresolute:

" Harold, thy tongue could kindle stones into men,
and warm those men into Saxons. Thy Wolnoth shall
not hang his head with shame when he comes back to
our merrie land with shaven locks and spurs of gold.
For if thou doubtest his race from his look, thou shalt
put thy right hand on his heart, and feel England beat
there in every pulse."

" Brave words, and well spoken," cried the Earl, and
he placed his hand on the boy's head as in benison.

Till then, Haco had stood apart, conversing with
the infant Thyra, whom his dark, mournful face awed
and yet touched, for she nestled close to him, and put
her little hand in his; but now, inspired no less than
his cousin by Harold's noble speech, he came proudly
forward by Wolnoth's side, and said:

" I, too, am English, and I have the name of Eng-
lishman to redeem."

Ere Harold could reply, Githa exclaimed:

" Leave there thy right hand on my child's head,
and say, simply: ' By my troth and my plight, if the
Duke detain Wolnoth, son of Githa, against just plea,
and King's assent to his return, I, Harold, will, fail-
ing letter and nuncius, cross the seas, to restore the
child to the mother.' "

156 HAROLD

Harold hesitated.

A sharp cry of reproach that went to his heart broke
from Githa's lips.

"Ah! cold and self-heeding, wilt thou send him to
bear a peril from which thou shrinkest thyself? "

" By my troth and my plight, then," said the Earl,
'"' if, fair time elapsed, peace in England, without plea
of justice, and against my king's fiat, Duke William of
Normandy detain the hostages; — thy son and this dear
boy, more sacred and more dear to me for his father's
woes, — I will cross the seas, to restore the child to the
mother, the fatherless to his fatherland. So help me,
all-seeing One, Amen and Amen ! "

CHAPTER IV

We have seen, in an earlier part of this record, that
Harold possessed, amongst his numerous and more
stately possessions, a house, not far from the old Ro-
man dwelling-place of Hilda. And in this residence
he now (save when with the King) made his chief
abode. He gave as the reasons for his selection, the
charm it took, in his eyes, from that signal mark of
affection which his ceorls had rendered him, in pur-
chasing the house and tilling the ground in his ab-
sence; and more especially the convenience of its vicin-
ity to the new palace at Westminster; for, by Edward's
special desire, while the other brothers repaired to
their different domains, Harold remained near his
royal person. To use the words of the great Norwe-
gian chronicler, " Harold was always with the Court
itself, and nearest to the King in all service." " The
King loved him very much, and kept him as his own

HAROLD 157

son, for he had no children."1 This attendance on
Edward was naturally most close at the restoration to
power of the Earl's family. For Harold, mild and
conciliating, was, like Aired, a great peacemaker, and
Edward had never cause to complain of him, as he
believed he had of the rest of that haughty house.
But the true spell which made dear to Harold the rude
building of timber, with its doors open all day to his
lithsmen, when with a light heart he escaped from
the halls of Westminster, was the fair face of Edith his
neighbour. The impression which this young girl had
made upon Harold seemed to partake of the strength
of a fatality. For Harold had loved her before the
marvellous beauty of her womanhood began; and, oc-
cupied from his earliest youth in grave and earnest
affairs, his heart had never been frittered away on the
mean and frivolous affections of the idle. Now, in
that comparative leisure of his stormy life, he was
naturally most open to the influence of a charm more
potent than all the glamoury of Hilda.

The autumn sun shone through the golden glades
of the forest-land, when Edith sate alone on the knoll
that faced forestland and road, and watched afar.

And the birds sung cheerily; but that was not the
sound for which Edith listened: and the squirrel darted
from tree to tree on the sward beyond; but not to see
the games of the squirrel sat Edith by the grave of the
Teuton. By-and-by, came the cry of the dogs, and
the tall gre-hound 2 of Wales emerged from the bosky
dells. Then Edith's heart heaved, and her eyes bright-
ened. And now, with his hawk on his wrist, and his

1 SNORRO STURLESON'S Hcimskringla— Laing's Translation,
P- 75-77-

2 The gre-hound was so called from hunting the gre or
badger.

158 HAROLD

spear * in his hand, came, through the yellowing
boughs, Harold the Earl.

And well may ye ween, that his heart beat as loud
and his eye shone as bright as Edith's, when he saw
who had watched for his footsteps on the sepulchral
knoll; Love, forgetful of the presence of Death; — so
has it ever been, so ever shall it be! He hastened his
stride, and bounded up the gentle hillock, and his
dogs, with a joyous bark, came round the knees of
Edith. Then Harold shook the bird from his wrist,
and it fell, with its light wing, on the altar-stone of
Thor.

" Thou art late, but thou art welcome, Harold my
kinsman," said Edith, simply, as she bent her face
over the hounds, whose gaunt heads she caressed.

" Call me not kinsman," said Harold, shrinking, and
with a dark cloud" on his broad brow.

"And why, Harold?"

"Oh, Edith, why?" murmured Harold; and his
thought added, " she knows not, poor child, that in
that mockery of kinship the Church sets its ban on
our bridals."

He turned, and chid his dogs fiercely as they gam-
bolled in rough glee round their fair friend.

The hounds crouched at the feet of Edith; and
Edith looked in mild wonder at the troubled face of
the Earl.

" Thine eyes rebuke me, Edith, more than my words
the hounds ! " said Harold, gently. " But there is
quick blood in my veins; and the mind must be calm
when it would control the humour. Calm was my

1 The spear and the hawk were as the badges of Saxon
nobility ; and a thegn was seldom seen abroad without the
one on his left wrist, the other in his right hand.

HAROLD 159

mind, sweet Edith, in the old time, when thou wert
an infant on my knee, and wreathing, with these rude
hands, flower-chains for thy neck like the swan's
down, I said, ' The flowers fade, but the chain lasts
when love weaves it."1

Edith again bent her face over the crouching
hounds. Harold gazed on her with mournful fond-
ness; and the bird still sung and the squirrel swung
himself again from bough to bough. Edith spoke
first:

" My godmother, thy sister, hath sent for me, Har-
old, and I am to go to the Court to-morrow. Shalt
thou be there?"

" Surely," said Harold, in an anxious voice, " surely,
I will be there! So my sister hath sent for thee: wit-
test thou wherefore? "

Edith grew very pale, and her tone trembled as she
answered:

41 Well-a-day, yes."

" It is as I feared, then! " exclaimed Harold, in great
agitation; "and my sister, whom these monks have
demented, leagues herself with the King against the
law of the wide welkin and the grand religion of the
human heart. Oh! " continued the Earl, kindling into
an enthusiasm, rare to his even moods, but wrung as
much from his broad sense as from his strong affec-
tion, " when I compare the Saxon of our land and
day, all enervated and decrepit by priestly supersti-
tion, with his forefathers in the first Christian era,
yielding to the religion they adopted in its simple
truths, but not to that rot of social happiness and free
manhood which this cold and lifeless monarchism —
making virtue the absence of human ties — spreads
around — which the great Bede,1 though himself a
1 BED. Epist. ad Egbert.

160 HAROLD

monk, vainly but bitterly denounced; — yea, verily,
when I see the Saxon already the theowe of the priest,
I shudder to ask how long he will be folk-free of the
tyrant."

He paused, breathed hard, and seizing, almost
sternly, the girl's trembling arm, he resumed between
his set teeth: " So they would have thee be a nun? —
Thou wilt not, — thou durst not, — thy heart would per-
jure thy vows! "

"Ah, Harold!" answered Edith, moved out of all
bashfulness by his emotion and her own terror of the
convent, and answering, if with the love of a woman,
still with all the unconsciousness of a child: " Better,
oh better the grate of the body than that of the heart!
— In the grave I could still live for those I love; be-
hind the Grate, love itself must be dead. Yes, thou
pitiest me, Harold; thy sister, the Queen, is gentle
and kind; I will fling myself at her feet, and say:
' Youth is fond, and the world is fair: let me live my
youth, and bless God in the world that he saw was
good!'"

" My own, own dear Edith ! " exclaimed Harold,
overjoyed. "Say this. Be firm: they cannot and
they dare not force thee! The law cannot wrench
thee against thy will from the ward of thy guardian
Hilda; and, where the law is, there Harold at least is
strong, — and there at least our kinship, if my bane, is
thy blessing."

" Why, Harold, sayest thou that our kinship is thy
bane? It is so sweet to me to whisper to myself,
' Harold is of thy kith, though distant; and it is nat-
ural to thee to have pride in his fame, and joy in his
presence ! ' Why is that sweetness to me, to thee so
bitter? "

" Harold dares not say to the maid of his love, ' Give me
thy right hand, and be my bride.' "

HAROLD 161

" Because," answered Harold, dropping the hand
he had clasped, and folding his arms in deep dejection,
" because but for that I should say: ' Edith, I love thee
more than a brother: Edith, be Harold's wife! ' And
were I to say it, and were we to wed, all the priests
of the Saxons would lift up their hands in horror, and
curse our nuptials, and I should be the bann'd of that
spectre the Church; and my house would shake to its
foundations; and my father, and my brothers, and the
thegns and the proceres, and the abbots and prelates,
whose aid makes our force, would gather round me
with threats and with prayers, that I might put thee
aside. And mighty as I am now, so mighty once was
Sweyn my brother; and outlaw as Sweyn is now, might
Harold be; and outlaw if Harold were, what breast so
broad as his could fill up the gap left in the defence
of England? And the passions that I curb, as a rider
his steed, might break their rein; and, strong in jus-
tice, and child of Nature, I might come, with banner
and mail, against Church, and House, and Father-
land; and the blood of my countrymen might be
poured like water: and, therefore, slave to the lying
thraldom he despises, Harold dares not say to the
maid of his love, ' Give me thy right hand, and be my
bride!'"

Edith had listened in bewilderment and despair, her
eyes fixed on his, and her face locked and rigid, as if
turned to stone. But when he had ceased, and, mov-
ing some steps away, turned aside his manly counte-
nance, that Edith might not perceive its anguish, the
noble and sublime spirit of that sex which ever, when
lowliest, most comprehenvls the lofty, rose superior
both to love and to grief; and rising, she advanced,
VOL. I.— ii

162 HAROLD

and placing her slight hand on his stalwart shoulder
she said, half in pity, half in reverence:

" Never before, O Harold, did I feel so proud of
thee: for Edith could not love thee as she doth, and
will till the grave clasp her, if thou didst not love
England more than Edith. Harold, till this hour I
was a child, and I knew not my own heart : I look now
into that heart, and I see that I am a woman. Harold,
of the cloister I have now no fear: and all life does not
shrink — no, it enlarges, and it soars into one desire
— to be worthy to pray for thee ! "

"Maid, maid!" exclaimed Harold, abruptly, and
pale as the dead, " do not say thou hast no fear of the
cloister. I adjure, I command thee, build not up be-
tween us that dismal everlasting wall. While thou
art free Hope yet survives — a phantom, haply but
Hope still."

"As thou wilt I will," said Edith, humbly: "order
my fate so as pleases thee the best."

Then, not daring to trust herself longer, for she
felt the tears rushing to her eyes, she turned away
hastily, and left him alone beside the altar-stone and
the tomb.

CHAPTER V

The next day, as Harold was entering the palace
of Westminster, with intent to seek the King's lady,
his father met him in one of the corridors, and, tak-
ing him gravely by the hand, said:

" My son, I have much on my mind regarding thee
and our House; come witn me."

" Nay," said the Earl, " by your leave let it be later

HAROLD 163

For I have it on hand to see my sister, ere confessor,
or monk, or schoolman, claim her hours!"

"Not so, Harold," said the Earl, briefly. "My
daughter is now in her oratory, and we shall have
time enow to treat of things mundane ere she is free
to receive thee, and to preach to thee of things ghost-
ly, the last miracle at St. Alban's, or the last dream
of the King, who would be a great man and a stirring,
if as restless when awake as he is in his sleep. Come."

Harold, in that filial obedience which belonged, as
of course, to his antique cast of character, made no
farther effort to escape, but with a sigh followed
Godwin into one of the contiguous chambers.

" Harold," then said Earl Godwin, after closing the
door carefully, " thou must not let the King keep thee
longer in dalliance and idleness: thine earldom needs
thee without delay. Thou knowest that these East
Angles, as we Saxons still call them, are in truth
mostly Danes and Norsemen; people jealous and
fierce, and free, and more akin to the Normans than
to the Saxons. My whole power in England hath
been founded, not less on my common birth with the
freefolk of Wessex — Saxons like myself, and there-
fore easy for me, a Saxon, to conciliate and control
— than on the hold I have ever sought to establish,
whether by arms or by arts, over the Danes in the
realm. And I tell and I warn thee, Harold, as the natu-
ral heir of my greatness, that he who cannot command
the stout hearts of the Anglo-Danes, will never main-
tain the race of Godwin in the post they have won in
the vanguard of Saxon England."

"This I wot well, my father," answered Harold;
" and I see with joy, that while those descendants of
heroes and freemen are blended indissolubly with the

164 HAROLD

meeker Saxon, their freer laws and hardier manners
are gradually supplanting, or rather regenerating, our
own."

Godwin smiled approvingly on his son, and then
his brow becoming serious, and the dark pupil of his
blue eye dilating, he resumed:

"This is well, my son; and hast thou thought also,
that while thou art loitering in these galleries, amidst
the ghosts of men in monk cowls, Siward is shadow-
ing our House with his glory, and all north the Hum-
ber rings with his name? Hast thou thought that all
Mercia is in the hands of Leofric our rival, and that
Algar his son, who ruled Wessex in my absence, left
there a name so beloved, that had I stayed a year
longer, the cry had been ' Algar,' not ' Godwin ' ? — for
so is the multitude ever! Now aid me, Harold, for
my soul is troubled, and I cannot work alone; and
though I say naught to others, my heart received a
death-blow when tears fell from its blood-springs on
the brow of Sweyn, my first-born." The old man
paused, and his lip quivered.

" Thou, thou alone, Harold, noble boy, thou alone
didst stand by his side in the hall; alone, alone, and I
blessed thee in that hour over all the rest of my sons.
Well, well! now to earth again. Aid me, Harold. I
open to thee my web: complete the woof when this
hand is cold. The new tree that stands alone in the
plain is soon nipped by the winter; fenced round with
the forest, its youth takes shelter from its fellows.1
So is it with a house newly founded; it must win
strength from the allies that it sets round its slender
stem. What had been Godwin, son of Wolnoth, had
he not married into the kingly house of great Canute?
- TEGNER'S Frithiof.

HAROLD 165

It is this that gives my sons now the right to the loyal
love of the Danes. The throne passed from Canute
and his race, and the Saxons again had their hour;
and I gave, as Jephtha gave his daughter, my bloom-
ing Edith to the cold bed of the Saxon king. Had
sons sprung from that union, the grandson of God-
win, royal alike from Saxon and Dane, would reign
on the throne of the isle. Fate ordered otherwise,
and the spider must weave web anew. Thy brother,
Tostig, has added more splendour than solid strength
of our line, in his marriage with the daughter of
Baldwin the Count. The foreigner helps us little in
England. Thou, O Harold, must bring new props
to the House. I would rather see thee wed to the
child of one of our great rivals than to the daughter
of kaisar, or outland king. Siward hath no daughter
undisposed of. Algar, son of Leofric, hath a daughter
fair as the fairest ; make her thy bride that Algar may
cease to be a foe. This alliance will render Mercia,
in truth, subject to our principalities, since the stronger
must quell the weaker. It doth more. Algar him-
self has married into the royalty of Wales.1 Thou wilt
win all those fierce tribes to thy side. Their forces
will gain thee the marches, now held so feebly under
Rolf the Norman, and in case of brief reverse, or sharp
danger, their mountains will give refuge from all foes.
This day, greeting Algar, he told me he meditated
bestowing his daughter on Gryffyth, the rebel under-
King of North Wales. Therefore," continued the
old Earl, with a smile, " thou must speak in time, and

1 Some of the chroniclers say that he married the daughter
of Gryffyth, the king of North Wales, but Gryffyth certainly
married Algar's daughter, and that double alliance could not
have been permitted. It was probably, therefore, some more
distant kinswoman of Gryffyth's that was united to Algar.

1 66 HAROLD

win and woo in the same breath. No hard task, me-
thinks, for Harold of the golden tongue."

" Sir and father," replied the young Earl, whom the
long speech addressed to him had prepared for its
close, and whose habitual self-control saved him from
disclosing his emotion, " I thank you duteously, for
your care for my future, and hope to profit by your
wisdom. I will ask the King's leave to go to my
East Anglians, and hold there a folkmuth, administer
justice, redress grievances, and make thegn and ceorl
content with Harold, their Earl. But vain is peace
in the realm, if there is strife in the house. And Al-
dyth, the daughter of Algar, cannot be house-wife to
me."

" Why? " asked the old Earl, calmly, and surveying
his son's face with those eyes so clear yet so unfathom-
able.

" Because, though I grant her fair, she pleases not
my fancy, nor would give warmth to my hearth. Be-
cause, as thou knowest well, Algar and I have ever
been opposed, both in camp and in council; and I am
not the man who can sell my love, though I may stifle
my anger. Earl Harold needs no bride to bring
spearmen to his back at his need; and his lordships
he will guard with the shield of a man, not the spindle
of a woman."

" Said in spite and in error," replied the old Earl,
coolly. " Small pain had it given thee to forgive Algar
old quarrels, and clasp his hand as a father-in-law — if
thou hadst had for his daughter what the great are
forbidden to regard save as a folly."

" Is love a folly, my father? "

" Surely, yes," said the Earl, with some sadness —
" surely, yes, for those who know that life is made up

HAROLD 16;

of business and care, spun out in long 3 cars, nor
counted by the joys of an hour. Surely, yes; thinkest
thou that I loved my first wife, the proud sister of
Canute, or that Edith, thy sister, loved Edward, when
he placed the crown on her head?"

" My father, in Edith, my sister, our House has
sacrificed enow to selfish power."

" I grant it, to selfish power," answered the eloquent
old man, " but not enow for England's safety. Look
to it, Harold; thy years, and thy fame, and thy state,
place thee free from my control as a father, but not
till thou steepest in thy cerements art thou free from
that father — thy land! Ponder it in thine own wise
mind — wiser already than that which speaks to it
under the hood of grey hairs. Ponder it, and ask thy-
self if thy power, when I am dead, is not necessary
to the weal of England? and if aught that thy schemes
can suggest would so strengthen that power, as to
find in the heart of the kingdom a host of friends like
the Mercians; — or if there could be a trouble and a
bar to thy greatness, a wall in thy path, or a thorn in
thy side, like the hate or the jealousy of Algar, the
son of Leofric? "

Thus addressed, Harold's face, before serene and
calm, grew overcast; and he felt the force of his fa-
ther's words when appealing to his reason — not to his
affections. The old man saw the advantage he had
gained, and prudently forbore to press it. Rising, he
drew round him his sweeping gonna lined with furs,
and only when he reached the door, he added:

" The old see afar; they stand on the height of ex-
perience, as a warder on the crown of a tower; and I
tell thee, Harold, that if thou let slip this golden occa-
sion, years hence — long and many — thou wilt rue the

168 HAROLD

loss of the hour. And that, unless Mercia, as the
centre of the kingdom, be reconciled to thy power,
thou wilt stand high indeed — but on the shelf of a
precipice. And if, as I suspect, thou lovest some
other who now clouds thy perception, and will then
check thy ambition, thou wilt break her heart with thy
desertion, or gnaw thine own with regret. For love
dies in possession — ambition has no fruition, and so
lives forever."

" That ambition is not mine, my father," exclaimed
Harold, earnestly; "I have not thy love of power,
glorious in thee, even in its extremes. I have not
thy "

" Seventy years} " interrupted the old man, conclud-
ing the sentence. " At seventy all men who have been
great will speak as I do; yet all will have known love.
Thou not ambitious, Harold? Thou knowest not thy-
self, nor knowest thou yet what ambition is. That
which I see far before me as thy natural prize, I dare
not, or I will not say. When time sets that prize
within reach of thy spear's point, say then, ' I am not
ambitious!' Ponder and decide."

And Harold pondered long, and decided not as God-
win could have wished. For he had not the seventy
years of his father, and the prize lay yet in the womb
of the mountains; though the dwarf and the gnome
were already fashioning the ore to the shape of a
crown.

HAROLD 169

CHAPTER VI

While Harold mused over his father's words, Edith,
seated on a low stool beside the Lady of England,
listened with earnest but mournful reverence to her
royal namesake.

The Queen's l closet opened like the King's on one
hand to an oratory, on the other to a spacious ante-
room; the lower part of the walls was covered with
arras, leaving space for a niche that contained an
image of the Virgin. Near the doorway to the ora-
tory, was the stoupe or aspersorium for holy-water;
and in various cysts and crypts, in either room, were
caskets containing the relics of saints. The purple
light from the stained glass of a high narrow window,
shaped in the Saxon arch, streamed rich and full over
the Queen's bended head like a glory, and tinged her
pale cheek, as with a maiden blush; and she might
have furnished a sweet model for early artist, in his
dreams of St. Mary the Mother, not when, young
and blest, she held the divine infant in her arms, but
when sorrow had reached even the immaculate bosom
and the stone had been rolled over the Holy Sepul-
chre. For beautiful the face still was, and mild be-
yond all words; but, beyond all words also, sad in its
tender resignation.

And thus said the Queen to her godchild:

" Why dost thou hesitate and turn away? Think-
est thou, poor child, in thine ignorance of life, that the
world ever can give thee a bliss greater than the calm

1 The title of queen is employed in these pages, as one which
our historians have unhesitatingly given to the consorts of our
Saxon kings; but the usual and correct designation of Ed-
ward's royal wife, in her own time, would be, Edith the Lady.

170 HAROLD

of the cloister? Pause, and ask thyself, young as
thou art, if all the true happiness thou hast known, is
not bounded to hope. As long as thou hopest, thou
art happy."

Edith sighed deeply, and moved her young head in
involuntary acquiescence.

" And what is life to the nun, but hope. In that
hope, she knows not the present, she lives in the fut-
ure; she hears ever singing the chorus of the angels,
as St. Dunstan heard them sing at the birth of Edgar.1
That hope unfolds to her the heiligthum of the future.
On earth her body, in heaven her soul ! "

" And her heart, O Lady of England? " cried Edith,
with a sharp pang.

The Queen paused a moment, and laid her pale
hand kindly on Edith's bosom.

" Not beating, child, as thine does now, with vain
thoughts, and worldly desires ; but calm, calm as mine.
It is in our power," resumed the Queen, after a sec-
ond pause, " it is in our power to make the life within
us all soul; so that the heart is not, or is felt not; so
that grief and joy have no power over us; so that we
look tranquil on the stormy earth, as yon image of
the Virgin, whom we make our example, looks from
the silent niche. Listen, my godchild and darling.

" I have known human state, and human debase-
ment. In these halls I woke Lady of England, and,
ere sunset, my lord banished me, without one mark
of honour, without one word of comfort, to the con-
vent of Wherwell; — my father, my mother, my kin,
all in exile; and my tears falling fast for them, but
not on a husband's bosom."

" Ah then, noble Edith," said the girl, colouring
1 ETHEL. De Gen. Reg. Ang.

HAROLD 171

with anger at the remembered wrong for her Queen,
" ah then, surely, at least, thy heart made itself heard."

" Heard, yea verily," said the Queen, looking up,
and pressing her hands; " heard, but the soul rebuked
it. And the soul said, ' Blessed are they that mourn ; '
and I rejoiced at the new trial which brought me
nearer to Him who chastens those He loves."

" But thy banished kin — the valiant, the wise; they
who placed thy lord on the throne? "

" Was it no comfort," answered the Queen simply,
" to think that in the House of God my prayers for
them would be more accepted than in the halls of
kings? Yes, my child, I have known the world's hon-
our, and the world's disgrace, and I have schooled
my heart to be calm in both."

" Ah, thou art above human strength, Queen and
Saint," exclaimed Edith ; " and I have heard it said of
thee, that as thou art now, thou wert from thine earli-
est years;1 ever the sweet, the calm, the holy — ever
less on earth than in heaven."

Something there was in the Queen's eyes, as she
raised them towards Edith at this burst of enthusiasm,
that gave for a moment, to a face otherwise so dis-
similar, the likeness to her father; something, in that
large pupil, of the impenetrable unrevealing depth of
a nature close and secret in self-control. And a more
acute observer than Edith might long have been per-
plexed and haunted with that look, wondering if, in-
deed, under the divine and spiritual composure, lurked
the mystery of human passion.

" My child," said the Queen, with the faintest smile
upon her lips, and drawing Edith towards her, " there
are moments when all that breathe the breath of life
1 AILRED, De Vit. Edward Confess.

i;2 HAROLD

feel, or have felt, alike. In my vain youth I read, I
mused, I pondered, but over worldly lore. And what
men called the sanctity of virtue, was perhaps but the
silence of thought. Now I have put aside those early
and childish dreams and shadows, remembering them
not, save (here the smile grew more pronounced) to
puzzle some poor schoolboy with the knots and rid-
dles of the sharp grammarian.1 But not to speak of
myself have I sent for thee. Edith, again and again,
solemnly and sincerely, I pray thee to obey the wish
of my lord the King. And now, while yet in all the
bloom of thought, as of youth, while thou hast no
memory save the child's, enter on the Realm of
Peace."

" I cannot, I dare not, I cannot — ah, ask me not,"
said poor Edith, covering her face with her hands.

Those hands the Queen gently withdrew; and look-
ing steadfastly in the changeful and half-averted face,
she said mournfully, " Is it so, my godchild? and is
thy heart set on the hopes of earth — thy dreams on
the love of man?"

" Nay," answered Edith, equivocating; " but I have
promised not to take the veil."

" Promised to Hilda? "

" Hilda," exclaimed Edith readily, " would never
consent to it. Thou knowest her strong nature, her
distaste to — to "

" The laws of our holy Church — I do; and for that
reason it is, mainly, that I join with the King in seek-
ing to abstract thee from her influence. But it is not
Hilda that thou hast promised? "

Edith hung her head.

" Is it to woman or to man? "
1 Ingulfus.

HAROLD 173

Before Edith could answer the door from the ante-
room opened gently, but without the usual ceremony,
and Harold entered. His quick quiet eye embraced
both forms, and curbed Edith's young impulse, which
made her start from her seat, and advance joyously
towards him as a protector.

" Fair day to thee, my sister," said the Earl, ad-
vancing; " and pardon, if I break thus rudely on thy
leisure; for few are the moments when beggar and
Benedictine leave thee free to receive thy brother."

" Dost thou reproach me, Harold?"

" No, Heaven forfend ! " replied the Earl, cordially,
and with a look at once of pity and admiration ; " for
thou art one of the few, in this court of simulators,
sincere and true; and it pleases thee to serve the Di-
vine Power in thy way, as it pleases me to serve Him
in mine."

"Thine, Harold?" said the Queen, shaking her
head, but with a look of some human pride and fond-
ness in her fair face.

" Mine; as I learned it from thee when I was thy
pupil, Edith; when to those studies in which thou didst
precede me, thou first didst lure me from sport and
pastime; and from thee I learned to glow over the
deeds of Greek and Roman, and say, ' They lived and
died as men; like them may I live and die!'1

" Oh, true — too truel " said the Queen, with a sigh;
" and I am to blame grievously that I did so pervert
to earth a mind that might otherwise have learned
holier examples; — nay, smile not with that haughty lip,
my brother; for believe me — yea, believe me — there
is more true valour in the life of one patient martyr
than in the victories of Caesar, or even the defeat of
Brutus."

174 HAROLD

" It may be so," replied the Earl, " but out of the
same oak we carve the spear and the cross; and those
not worthy to hold the one, may yet not guiltily wield
the other. Each to his path of life — and mine is
chosen." Then, changing his voice, with some ab-
ruptness, he said, " But what hast thou been saying
to thy fair godchild, that her cheek is pale, and her
eyelids seem so heavy? Edith, Edith, my sister, be-
ware how thou shapest the lot of the martyr without
the peace of the saint. Had Algive the nun been
wedded to Sweyn our brother, Sweyn were not wend-
ing, barefooted and forlorn, to lay the wrecks of deso-
lated life at the Holy Tomb."

"Harold, Harold!" faltered the Queen, much
struck with his words.

" But," the Earl continued — and something of the
pathos which belongs to deep emotion vibrated in the
eloquent voice, accustomed to command and per-
suade— " we strip not the green leaves for our yule-
hearths — we gather them up when dry and sere.
Leave youth on the bough — let the bird sing to it —
let it play free in the airs of heaven. Smoke comes
from the branch which, cut in the sap, is cast upon
the fire, and regret from the heart which is severed
from the world while the world is in its May."

The Queen paced slowly, but in evident agitation,
to and fro the room, and her hands clasped convul-
sively the rosary round her neck; then, after a pause
of thought, she motioned to Edith and, pointing to
the oratory, said with forced composure, " Enter
there, and there kneel; commune with thyself, and be
still. Ask for a sign from above — pray for the grace
within. Go; I would speak alone with Harold."

Edith crossed her arms on her bosom meekly, and

HAROLD 175

passed into the oratory. The Queen watched her for a
few moments tenderly, as the slight, child-like form
bent before the sacred symbol. Then she closed the
door gently, and coming with a quick step to Harold,
said, in a low but clear voice, " Dost thou love the
maiden?"

" Sister," answered the Earl sadly, " I love her as a
man should love woman — more than my life, but less
than the ends life lives for."

"Oh, world, world, world!" cried the Queen, pas-
sionately, " not even to thine own objects art thou
true. O world! O world! thou desirest happiness
below, and at every turn, with every vanity, thou tram-
plest happiness under foot! Yes, yes; they said to
me, ' For the sake of our greatness, thou shalt wed
King Edward.' And I live in the eyes that loathe
me — and — and " The Queen, as if conscience-
stricken, paused aghast, kissed devoutly the relic sus-
pended to her rosary, and continued, with such calm-
ness that it seemed as if two women were blent in one,
so startling was the contrast. " And I have had my
reward, but not from the world! Even so, Harold
the Earl, and Earl's son, thou lovest yon fair child,
and she thee; and ye might be happy, if happiness
were earth's end; but, though high-born, and of fair
temporal possessions, she brings thee not lands broad
enough for her dowry, nor troops of kindred to swell
thy lithsmen, and she is not a markstone in thy march
to ambition; and so thou lovest her as man loves
woman — 'less than the ends life lives for!"

" Sister," said Harold, " thou speakest as I love to
hear thee speak — as my bright-eyed, rose-lipped sister
spoke in the days of old; thou speakest as a woman
with warm heart, and not as the mummy in the stiff

176 HAROLD

cerements of priestly form; and if thou art with ir^,
and thou wilt give me countenance, I will marry thy
godchild, and save her alike from the dire supersti-
tions of Hilda, and the grave of the abhorrent con-
vent."

"But my father — my father!" cried the Queen,
"who ever bended that soul of steel?"

"It is not my father I fear; it is thee and thy
monks. Forgettest thou that Edith and I are within
the six banned degrees of the Church? "

" True, most true," said the Queen, with a look of
great terror; "I had forgotten. Avaunt, the very
thought! Pray — fast — banish it — my poor, poor
brother!" and she kissed his brow.

" So, there fades the woman, and the mummy
speaks again ! " said Harold, bitterly. " Be it so : I
bow to my doom. Well, there may be a time when
Nature on the throne of England shall prevail over
Priestcraft; and, in guerdon for all my services, I will
then ask a king who hath blood in his veins to win
me the Pope's pardon and benison. Leave me that
hope, my sister, and leave thy godchild on the shores
of the living world."

The Queen made no answer, and Harold, auguring
ill from her silence, moved on and opened the door
of the oratory. But the image that there met him,
that figure still kneeling, those eyes, so earnest in the
tears that streamed from them fast and unheeded,
fixed on the holy rood — awed his step and checked
his voice. Nor till the girl had risen, did he break
silence; then he said, gently, "My sister will press
thee no more, Edith "

" I say not that! " exclaimed the Queen.

" Or if she doth, remember thy plighted promise

HAROLD 177

under the wide cope of blue heaven, the old nor least
holy temple of our common Father."
With these words he left the room.

CHAPTER VII

Harold passed into the Queen's ante-chamber.
Here the attendance was small and select compared
with the crowds which we shall see presently in the
ante-room to the King's closet; for here came chiefly
the more learned ecclesiastics, attracted instinctively
by the Queen's own mental culture, and few indeed
were they at that day (perhaps the most illiterate
known in England since the death of Alfred;1) and
here came not the tribe of impostors, and the relic-
venders, whom the infantine simplicity and lavish
waste of the Confessor attracted. Some four or five
priests and monks, some lonely widow, some orphan
child, humble worth, or protected sorrow, made the
noiseless levee of the sweet, sad Queen.

The groups turned, with patient eyes, towards the
Earl as he emerged from that chamber, which it was
rare indeed to quit unconsoled, and marvelled at the
flush in his cheek, and the disquiet on his brow; but
Harold was dear to the clients of his sister; for, de-
spite his supposed indifference to the mere priestly
virtues (if virtues we call them) of the decrepit time,
his intellect was respected by yon learned ecclesias-

1 The clergy (says Malmesbury), contented with a very
slight share of learning, could scarcely stammer out the words
of the sacraments; and a person who understood grammar
was an object of wonder and astonishment. Other authorities,
likely to be impartial, speak quite as strongly as to the preva-
lent ignorance of the time.
VOL. I. — 12

i;8 HAROLD

tics; and his character, as the foe of all injustice, and
the fosterer of all that were desolate, was known to
yon pale-eyed widow and yon trembling orphan.

In the atmosphere of that quiet assembly, the Earl
seemed to recover his kindly temperament, and he
paused to address a friendly or a soothing word to
each; so that when he vanished, the hearts there felt
more light; and the silence hushed before his entrance,
was broken by many whispers in praise of the good
Earl.

Descending a staircase without the walls — as even
in royal halls the principal staircases were then — Har-
old gained a wide court, in which loitered several
house-carles 1 and attendants, whether of the King or
the visitors; and, reaching the entrance of the palace,
took his way towards the King's rooms, which lay
near, and round, what is now called " The Painted
Chamber," then used as a bedroom by Edward on
state occasions.

And now he entered the ante-chamber of his royal
brother-in-law. Crowded it was, but rather seemed
it the hall of a convent than the ante-room of a king.
Monks, pilgrims, priests, met his eye in every nook;
and not there did the Earl pause to practise the arts
of popular favour. Passing erect through the midst,
he beckoned forth the officer, in attendance at the ex-
treme end, who, after an interchange of whispers,
ushered him into the royal presence. The monks and
the priests, gazing towards the door which had closed
on his stately form, said to each other:

1 House-carles in the royal court were the body-guard,
mostly, if not all, of Danish origin. They appear to have been
first formed, or at least employed, in that capacity by Canute.
With the great earls, the house-carles probably exercised the
same functions; but in the ordinary acceptation of the word
in families of lower rank, house-carle was a domestic servant

HAROLD 179

"The King's Norman favourites at least honoured
the Church."

" That is true," said an abbot; " and an it were not
for two things, I should love the Norman better than
the Saxon."

" What are they, my father ? " asked an aspiring
young monk.

" Inprinis," quoth the abbot, proud of the one Latin
word he thought he knew, but, that, as we see, was an
error; " they cannot speak so as to be understood, and
I fear me much they incline to mere carnal learning."

Here there was a sanctified groan: —

" Count William himself spoke to me in Latin ! "
continued the abbot, raising his eyebrows.

"Did he? — Wonderful!" exclaimed several voices.
" And what did you answer, holy father? "

" Marry," said the abbot solemnly, " I replied,
Inprinis."

" Good ! " said the young monk, with a look of pro-
found admiration.

" Whereat the good Count looked puzzled — as I
meant him to be: — a heinous fault, and one intolerant
to the clergy, that love of profane tongues! And the
next thing against your Norman is (added the abbot,
with a sly wink), that he is a close man, who loves not
his stoup; now, I say, that a priest never has more
hold over a sinner than when he makes the sinner open
his heart to him."

" That's clear! " said a fat priest, with a lubricate
and shining nose.

" And how," pursued the abbot triumphantly, " can
a sinner open his heavy heart until you have given him
something to lighten it? Oh, many and many a
wretched man have I comforted spiritually over a

i8o HAROLD

flagon of stout ale; and many a good legacy to the
Church hath come out of a friendly wassail between
watchful shepherd and strayed sheep! But what hast
thou there?" resumed the abbot, turning to a man,
clad in the lay garb of a burgess of London, who had
just entered the room, followed by a youth, bearing
what seemed a coffer, covered with a fine linen cloth.

" Holy father! " said the burgess, wiping his fore-
head, " it is a treasure so great, that I trow Hugoline,
the King's treasurer, will scowl at me for a year to
come, for he likes to keep his own grip on the King's
gold."

At this indiscreet observation, the abbot, the monks,
and all the priestly bystanders looked grim and
gloomy, for each had his own special design upon the
peace of poor Hugoline, the treasurer, and liked not
to see him the prey of a layman.

" Inprinis! " quoth the abbot, puffing out the word
with great scorn; " thinkest thou, son of Mammon,
that our good King sets his pious heart on gew-gaw,
and gems, and such vanities? Thou shouldst take
the goods to Count Baldwin of Flanders; or Tostig,
the proud Earl's proud son."

"Marry!" said the cheapman, with a smile; "my
treasure will find small price with Baldwin the scoffer,
and Tostig the vain! Nor need ye look at me so
sternly, my fathers; but rather vie with each other who
shall win this wonder of wonders for his own con-
vent; know, in a word, that it is the right thumb of
St. Jude, which a worthy man bought at Rome for
me, for 3000 Ib. weight of silver; and I ask but 500 Ib.
over the purchase for my pains and my fee." l

1 This was cheap. For Agelnoth, Archbishop of Canterbury,
gave the Pope 6000 Ib. weight of silver for the arm of St
Augustine. — MALMESBURY.

HAROLD 181

"Humph!" said the abbot.

" Humph! " said the aspiring young monk; the rest
gathered wistfully round the linen cloth.

A fiery exclamation of wrath and disdain was here
heard; and all turning, saw a tall, fierce-looking thegn,
who had found his way into that group, like a hawk in
a rookery.

" Dost thou tell me, knave," quoth the thegn, in
a dialect that bespoke him a Dane by origin, with the
broad burr still retained in the north; " dost fhou tell
me that the King will waste his gold on such fool-
eries, while the fort built by Canute at the flood of
the Humber is all fallen into ruin, without a man in
steel jacket to keep watch on the war fleets of Swede
and Norwegian?"

" Worshipful minister," replied the cheapman, with
some slight irony in his tone, " these reverend fathers
will tell thee that the thumb of St. Jude is far better
aid against Swede and Norwegian than forts of stone
and jackets of steel; nathless, if thou wantest jackets
of steel, I have some to sell at a fair price, of the last
fashion, and helms with long nose-pieces, as are worn
by the Normans."

" The thumb of a withered old saint," cried the
Dane, not heeding the last words, " more defence at
the mouth of the Humber than crenellated castles and
mailed men! "

" Surely, naught son," said the abbot, looking
shocked, and taking part with the cheapman. " Dost
thou not remember that, in the pious and famous
council of 1014, it was decreed to put aside all weap-
ons of flesh against thy heathen countrymen, and de-
pend alone on St. Michael to fight for us? Thinkest
thou that the saint would ever suffer his holy thumb

182 HAROLD

to fall into the hands of the Gentiles? — never! Go to,
thou art not fit to have conduct of the King's wars.
Go to, and repent, my son, or the King shall hear
of it."

"Ah, wolf in sheep's clothing!" muttered the
Dane, turning on his heel; "if thy monastery were
but built on the other side the Humber! "

The cheapman heard him, and smiled. While such
the scene in the ante-room, we follow Harold into the
King's presence.

On entering, he found there a man in the prime of
life, and though richly clad in embroidered gonna, and
with gilt ateghar at his side, still with the loose robe,
the long moustache, and the skin of the throat and
right hand punctured with characters and devices,
which proved his adherence to the fashions of the
Saxon.1 And Harold's eye sparkled, for in this guest
he recognised the father of Aldyth, Earl Algar, son
of Leofric. The two nobles exchanged grave salu-
tations, and each eyed the other wistfully.

The contrast between the two was striking. The
Danish race were men generally of larger frame and
grander mould than the Saxon;2 and though in all
else, as to exterior, Harold was eminently Saxon, yet, •
in common with his brothers, he took from the moth-

1 William of Malmesbury says, that the English, at the time
of the Conquest, loaded their arms with gold bracelets, and
adorned their skins with punctured designs, i.e., a sort of tat-
tooing. He says, that they then wore short garments, reach-
ing to the mid-knee ; but that was a Norman fashion, and the
loose robes assigned in the text to Algar were the old Saxon
fashion, which made but little distinction between the dress
of women and that of men.

2 And in England, to this day, the descendants of the Anglo-
Danes, in Cumberland and Yorkshire, are still a taller and
bonier race than those of the Anglo-Saxons, as in Surrey and
Sussex.

HAROLD 183

er's side the lofty air and iron frame of the old kings
of the sea. But Algar, below the middle height,
though well set, was slight in comparison with Har-
old. His strength was that which men often take
rather from the nerve than the muscle ; a strength that
belongs to quick tempers and restless energies. His
light blue eye, singularly vivid and glittering; his
quivering lip, the veins swelling at each emotion on
the fair white temples; the long yellow hair, bright as
gold, and resisting, in its easy curls, all attempts to curb
it into the smooth flow most in fashion; the nervous
movements of the gesture; the somewhat sharp and
hasty tones of the voice; all opposed, as much as if
the two men were of different races, the steady, deep
eye of Harold, his composed mien, sweet and majes-
tic, his decorous locks parted on the king-like front,
with their large single curl where they touched the
shoulder. Intelligence and will were apparent in both
the men; but the intelligence of one was acute and
rapid, that of the other profound and steadfast; the
will of one broke in flashes of lightning, that of the
other was calm as the summer sun at noon.

" Thou art welcome, Harold," said the King, with
less than his usual listlessness, and with a look of re-
lief as the Earl approached him.

" Our good Algar comes to us with a suit well
worthy consideration, though pressed somewhat hotly,
and evincing too great a desire for goods worldly;
contrasting in this his most laudable father our well-
beloved Leofric, who spends his substance in endow-
ing monasteries and dispensing alms; wherefor he
shall receive a hundred-fold in the treasure-house
above."

" A good interest, doubtless, my lord the King,"

1 84 HAROLD

said Algar, quickly, " but one that is not paid to his
heirs; and the more need, if my father (whom I blame
not for doing as he lists with his own) gives all he
hath to the monks — the more need, I say, to take
care that his son shall be enabled to follow his ex-
ample. As it is, most noble King, I fear me that Al-
gar, son of Leofric, will have nothing to give. In
brief, Earl Harold," continued Algar, turning to his
fellow-thegn — " in brief, thus stands the matter. When
our lord the King was first graciously pleased to con-
sent to rule in England, the two chiefs who most as-
sured his throne were thy father and mine: often foes,
they laid aside feud and jealousy for the sake of the
Saxon line. Now, since then, thy father hath strung
earldom to earldom, like links in a coat-mail. And,
save Northumbria and Mercia, well-nigh all England
falls to him and his sons: whereas my father remains
what he was, and my father's son stands landless and
penceless. In thine absence the King was graciously
pleased to bestow on me thy father's earldom; men
say that I ruled it well. Thy father returns, and
though " (here Algar's eyes shot fire, and his hand
involuntarily rested on his ateghar) " I could have
held it, methinks, by the strong hand, I gave it up at
my father's prayer and the King's hest, with a free
heart. Now, therefore, I come to my lord, and I ask,
' What lands and what lordships canst thou spare in
broad England to Algar, once Earl of Wessex, and
son to the Leofric whose hand smoothed the way to
thy throne?' My lord the King is pleased to preach
to me contempt of the world; thou dost not despise
the world, Earl of the East Angles, — what sayest thou
to the heir of Leofric? "

" That thy suit is just," answered Harold, calmly,
" but urged with small reverence."

HAROLD 185

Earl Algar bounded like a' stag that the arrow hath
startled.

" It becomes thee, who hast backed thy suits with
war-ships and mail, to talk of reverence, and rebuke
one whose fathers reigned over earldoms,1 when
thine were, no doubt, ceorls at the plough. But for
Edric Streone, the traitor and low-born, what had
been Wolnoth, thy grandsire? "

So rude and home an assault in the presence of the
King, who, though personally he loved Harold in his
lukewarm way, yet, like all weak men, was not dis-
pleased to see the strong split their strength against
each other, brought the blood into Harold's cheek;
but he answered calmly:

" We live in a land, son of Leofric, in which birth,
though not disesteemed, gives of itself no power in
council or camp. We belong to a land where men
are valued for what they are, not for what their dead
ancestors might have been. So has it been for ages
in Saxon England, where my fathers, through God-
win, as thou sayest, might have been ceorls; and so,
I have heard, it is in the land of the martial Danes,
where my fathers, through Githa, reigned on the
thrones of the North."

" Thou dost well," said Algar, gnawing his lip, " to

1 Very few of the greater Saxon nobles could pretend to a
lengthened succession in their demesnes. The wars with the
Danes, the many revolutions which threw new families upper-
most, the confiscations and banishments, and the invariable
rule of rejecting the heir, if not of mature years at his father's
death, caused rapid changes of dynasty in the several earldoms.
But the family of Leofric had just claims to a very rare an-
tiquity in their Mercian lordship. Leofric was the sixth Earl
of Chester and Coventry, in lineal descent from his namesake,
Leofric the First ; he extended the supremacy of his hereditary
lordship over all Mercia. See DUGDALE, Monast. vol. iii. p.
102; and PALGRAVE'S Commonwealth, Proofs and Illustrations,
p. 291.

1 86 HAROLD

shelter thyself on the spintlle side, but we Saxons of
pure descent think little of your kings of the North,
pirates and idolaters, and eaters of horseflesh ; but en-
joy what thou hast, and let Algar have his due."

" It is for the King, not his servant, to answer the
prayer of Algar," said Harold, withdrawing to the
farther end of the room.

Algar's eye followed him, and observing that the
King was fast sinking into one of the fits of religious
reverie in which he sought to be inspired with a de-
cision, whenever his mind was perplexed, he moved
with a light step to Harold, put his hand on his shoul-
der, and whispered:

" We do ill to quarrel with each other — I repent
me of hot words — enough. Thy father is a wise man,
and sees far — thy father would have us friends. Be
it so. Hearken: my daughter Aldyth is esteemed not
the least fair of the maidens in England; I will give
her to thee as thy wife, and as thy morgen gift, thou
shalt win for me from the King the earldom forfeited
by thy brother Sweyn, now parcelled out amongst
sub-earls and thegns — easy enow to control. By the
shrine of St. Alban, dost thou hesitate, man?"

" No, not an instant," said Harold, stung to the
quick. " Not, couldst thou offer me all Mercia as her
dower, would I wed the daughter of Algar; and bend
my knee, as a son to a wife's father, to the man who
despises my lineage, while he truckles to my power."

Algar's face grew convulsed with rage; but without
saying a word to the Earl he strode back to Edward,
who now with vacant eyes looked up from the rosary
over which he had been bending, and said abruptly:

" My lord the King, I have spoken as I think it be-
comes a man who knows his own claims, and believes

HAROLD 187

in the gratitude of princes. Three days will I tarry in
London for your gracious answer ; on the fourth I de-
part. May the saints guard your throne, and bring
around it its best defence, the thegn-born satraps
whose fathers fought with Alfred and Athelstan. All
went well with merrie England till the hoof of the
Dane King broke the soil, and mushrooms sprung up
where the oak-trees fell."

When the son of Leofric had left the chamber, the
King rose wearily and said in Norman French, to
which language he always yearningly returned when
with those who could speak it:

" Beau frcrc and bien aime, in what trifles must a
king pass his life! And, all this while, matters grave
and urgent demand me. Know that Eadmer, the
cheapman, waits without, and hath brought me, dear
and good man, the thumb of St. Jude! What thought
of delight! And this unmannerly son of strife, with
his jay's voice and wolf's eyes, screaming at me for
earldoms! — oh the folly of man! Naught, naught,
very naught ! "

"Sir and King," said Harold; "it ill becomes me
to arraign your pious desires, but these relics are of
vast cost; our coasts are ill defended, and the Dane
yet lays claim to your kingdom. Three thousand
pounds of silver and more does it need to repair even
the old wall of London and Southweorc."

"Three thousand pounds!" cried the King; " thou
art mad, Harold ! I have scarce twice that sum in the
treasury; and besides the thumb of St. Jude, I daily
expect the tooth of St. Remigius — the tooth of St.
Remigius! "

Harold sighed, " Vex not yourself, my lord, I will
see to the defences of London. For, thanks to your

1 88 HAROLD

grace, my revenues are large, while my wants are
simple. I seek you now to pray your leave to visit
my earldom. My lithsmen murmur at my absence,
and grievances, many and sore, have arisen in my
exile."

The King stared in terror; and his look was that
of a child when about to be left in the dark.

"Nay, nay; I cannot spare thee, beau frere. Thou
curbest all these stiff thegns — thou leavest me time
for the devout; moreover, thy father, thy father, I will
not be left to thy father! I love him not! "

" My father," said Harold, mournfully, " returns to
his own earldom; and of all our House you will have
but the mild face of your queen by your side ! "

The King's lip writhed at that hinted rebuke, or im-
plied consolation.

" Edith the Queen," he said, after a slight pause,
"is pious and good; and she hath never gainsaid my
will, and she hath set before her as a model the chaste
Susannah, as I, unworthy man, from youth upward,
have walked in the pure steps of Joseph.1 But," added
the King, with a touch of human feeling in his voice,
" canst thou not conceive, Harold, thou who art a war-
rior, what it would be to see ever before thee the face
of thy deadliest foe — the one against whom all thy
struggles of life and death had turned into memories
of hyssop and gall?"

" My sister! " exclaimed Harold, in indignant amaze,
" My sister thy deadliest foe! She who never once
murmured at neglect, disgrace — she whose youth hath
been consumed in prayers for thee and thy realm — my
sister! O King, I dream?"

" Thou dreamest not, carnal man," said the King,
1 AILRED, de Vit. Bdw.

HAROLD t 189

peevishly. ;' Dreams are the gifts of the saints, and
are not granted to such as thou! Dost thou think
that, in the prime of my manhood, I could have youth
and beauty forced on my sight, and hear man's law
and man's voice say, ' They are thine, and thine only,'
and not feel that war was brought to my hearth, and
a snare set on my bed, and that the fiend had set
watch on my soul? Verily, I tell thee, man of battle,
that thou hast known no strife as awful as mine, and
achieved no victory as hard and as holy. And now,
when my beard is silver, and the Adam of old is ex-
pelled at the precincts of death; now, thinkest thou,
that I can be reminded of the strife and temptation
of yore, without bitterness and shame; when days
were spent in fasting, and nights in fierce prayer; and
in the face of woman I saw the devices of Satan ? "

Edward coloured as he spoke, and his voice trem-
bled with the accents of what seemed hate. Harold
gazed on him mutely, and felt that at last he had won
the secret that had ever perplexed him, and that in
seeking to be above the humanity of love, the would-
be saint had indeed turned love into the hues of hate —
a thought of anguish, and a memory of pain.

The King recovered himself in a few moments, and
said, with some dignity, " But God and his saints
alone should know the secrets of the household.
What I have said was wrung from me. Bury it in thy
heart. Leave me, then, Harold, sith so it must be.
Put thine earldom in order, attend to the monasteries
and the poor, and return soon. As for Algar, what
sayest thou?"

" I fear me," answered the large-souled Harold, with
a victorious effort of justice over resentment, " that
if you reject his suit you will drive him into some per-

190 HAROLD

ilous extremes. Despite his rash and proud spirit, he
is brave against foes, and beloved by the ceorls, who
oft like best the frank and hasty spirit. Wherefore
some power and lordship it were wise to give, without
dispossessing others, and not more wise than due, for
his father served you well."

" And hath endowed more houses of God than any
earl in the kingdom. But Algar is no Leofric. We
will consider your words and heed them. Bless you,
beau frere! and send in the cheapman. The thumb of
St. Jude! What a gift to my new church of St. Peter!
The thumb of St. Jude! — Non nobis gloria! Sancta
Maria! The thumb of St. Jude!"

BOOK V

DEATH AND LOVE

CHAPTER I

Harold, without waiting once more to see Edith,
nor even taking leave of his father, repaired to Dun-
wich,1 the capital of his earldom. In his absence, the
King wholly forgot Algar and his suit; and in the
mean while the only lordships at his disposal, Stigand,
the grasping bishop, got from him without an effort.
In much wrath, Earl Algar, on the fourth day, assem-
bling all the loose men-at-arms he could find around
the metropolis, and at the head of a numerous dis-
orderly band, took his way into Wales, with his young
daughter Aldyth, to whom the crown of a Welch king
was perhaps some comfort for the loss of the fair Earl ;
though the rumour ran that she had long since lost her
heart to her father's foe.

Edith, after a long homily from the King, returned
to Hilda; nor did her godmother renew the subject of
, the convent. All she said on parting was, " Even in
youth the silver cord may be loosened, and the golden
bowl may be broken; and rather perhaps in youth than
in age, when the heart has grown hard, wilt thou recall
with a sigh my counsels."

Godwin had departed to Wales ; all his sons were at

1 Dunwich, now swallowed up by the sea. — Hostile element
to the house of Godwin.

191

192 HAROLD

/

their several lordships; Edward was left alone to his
monks and relic-venders. And so months passed.

Now it was the custom with the old kings of Eng-
land to hold state and wear their crowns thrice a year,
at Christmas, at Easter, and at Whitsuntide; and in
those times their nobles came round them, and there
was much feasting and great pomp.

So, in the Easter of the year of our Lord 1053, King
Edward kept his court at Windshore,1 and Earl God-
win and his sons, and many others of high degree, left
their homes to do honour to the King. And Earl
Godwin came first to his house in London — near the
Tower Palatine, in what is now called the Fleet — and
Harold the Earl, and Tostig, and Leofwine, and Gurth,
were to meet him there, and go thence, with the full
state of their sub-thegns, and cnehts, and house-carles,
their falcons, and their hounds, as become men of such
rank, to the court of King Edward.

Earl Godwin sate with his wife, Githa, in a room out
of the Hall, which looked on the Thames, — awaiting
Harold, who was expected to arrive ere nightfall.
Gurth had ridden forth to meet his brother, and Leof-
wine and Tostig had gone over to Southwark, to try
their band-dogs on the great bear, which had been
brought from the north a few days before, and was
said to have hugged many good hounds to death, and
a large train of thegns and house-carles had gone with
them to see the sport; so that the old Earl and his lady
the Dane sate alone. And there was a cloud upon
Earl Godwin's large forehead, and he sate by the fire,
spreading his hands before it, and looking thought-
fully on the flame, as it broke through the smoke
which burst out into the cover, or hole in the roof.
1 Windsor.

HAROLD 193

And in that large house there were no less than three
" covers," or rooms, wherein fires could be lit in the
centre of the floor; and the rafters above were black-
ened with the smoke; and in those good old days, ere
chimneys, if existing, were much in use, " poses, and
rheumatisms, and catarrhs," were unknown, so whole-
some and healthful was the smoke. Earl Godwin's
favourite hound, old, like himself, lay at his feet,
dreaming, for it whined and was restless. And the
Earl's old hawk, with its feathers all stiff and sparse,
perched on the dossal of the Earl's chair: and the floor
was pranked with rushes and sweet herbs — the first
of the spring; and Githa's feet were on her stool, and
she leaned her proud face on the small hand which
proved her descent from the Dane, and rocked herself
to and fro, and thought of her son Wolnoth in the
court of the Norman.

" Githa," at last said the Earl, " thou hast been to
me a good wife and a true, and thou hast borne me
tall and bold sons, some of whom have caused us sor-
row, and some joy; and in sorrow and in joy we have
but drawn closer to each other. Yet when we wed
thou wert in thy first youth, and the best part of my
years was fled; and thou wert a Dane and I a Saxon;
and thou a king's niece, and now a king's sister, and
I but tracing two descents to thegn's rank."

Moved and marvelling at this touch of sentiment in
the calm earl, in whom indeed such sentiment was
rare, Githa roused herself from her musings, and said,
simply and anxiously:

" I fear my lord is not well, that he speaks thus to
Githa!"

The Earl smiled faintly.

" Thou art right with thy woman's wit, wife. And
VOL. I.— 13

194 HAROLD

for the last few weeks, though I said it not to alarm
thee, I have had strange noises in my ears, and a surge,
as of blood, to the temples."

" O Godwin ! dear spouse," said Githa, tenderly,
" and I was blind to the cause, but wondered why
there was some change in thy manner! But I will
go to Hilda to-morrow; she hath charms against all
disease."

" Leave Hilda in peace, to give her charms to the
young; age defies Wigh and Wicca. Now hearken
to me. I feel that my thread is nigh spent, and, as
Hilda would say, my Fylgia forewarns me that we are
about to part. Silence, I say, and hear me. I have
done proud things in my day; I have made kings and
built thrones, and I stand higher in England than ever
thegn or earl stood before. I would not, Githa, that
the tree of my house, planted in the storm, and watered
with lavish blood, should wither away."

The old Earl paused, and Githa said, loftily:

" Fear not that thy name will pass from the earth,
or thy race from power. For fame has been wrought
by thy hands, and sons have been born to thy embrace;
and the boughs of the tree thou hast planted shall live
in the sunlight when we its roots, O my husband, are
buried in the earth."

" Githa," replied the Earl, " thou speakest as the
daughter of kings and the mother of men; but listen
to me, for my soul is heavy. Of these our sons, our
first-born, alas! is a wanderer and outcast — Sweyn,
once the beautiful and brave; and Wolnoth, thy dar-
ling, is a guest in the court of the Norman, our foe.
Of the rest, Gurth is so mild and so calm, that I pre-
dict without fear that he will be warrior of fame, for
the mildest in hall are ever the boldest in field. But

HAROLD 195

Gurth hath not the deep wit of these tangled times;
and Leofwine is too light, and Tostig too fierce. So
wife mine, of these our six sons, Harold alone, daunt-
less as Tostig, mild as Gurth, hath his father's thought-
ful brain. And, if the King remains as aloof as now
from his royal kinsman, Edward the Atheling, who "
— the Earl hesitated and looked round — " who so near
to the throne when I am no more, as Harold, the joy
of the ceorls, and the pride of the thegns? — he whose
tongue never falters in the Witan, and whose arm
never yet hath known defeat in the field?"

Githa's heart swelled, and her cheek grew flushed.

" But what I fear the most," resumed the Earl, " is,
not the enemy without, but the jealousy within. By
the side of Harold stands Tostig, rapacious to grasp,
but impotent to hold — able to ruin, strengthless to
save."

" Nay, Godwin, my lord, thou wrongest our hand-
some son."

" Wife, wife," said the Earl, stamping his foot, " hear
me and obey me; for my words on earth may be few,
and while thou gainsayest me the blood mounts to my
brain, and my eyes see through a cloud."

" Forgive me, sweet lord," said Githa, humbly.

" Mickle and sore it repents me that in their youth
I spared not the time from my worldly ambition to
watch over the hearts of my sons; and thou wert too
proud of the surface without, to look well to the work-
ings within, and what was once soft to the touch is
now hard to the hammer. In the battle of life the
arrows we neglect to pick up, Fate, our foe, will store
in her quiver; we have armed her ourselves with the
shafts — the more need to be ware with the shield.
Wherefore, if thou survivest me, and if, as I forebode,

196 HAROLD

dissension break out between Harold and Tostig, I
charge thee by memory of our love, and reverence foi
my grave, to deem wise and just all that Harold deems
just and wise. For when Godwin is in the dust, his
House lives alone in Harold. Heed me now, and heed
ever. And so, while the day yet lasts, I will go forth
into the marts and the guilds, and talk with the bur-
gesses, and smile on their wives, and be, to the last,
Godwin the smooth and the strong."

So saying, the old Earl arose, and walked forth with
a firm step; and his old hound sprang up, pricked its
ears, and followed him; the blinded falcon turned its
head towards the clapping door, but did not stir from
the dossel.

Then Githa again leant her cheek on her hand, and
again rocked herself to and fro, gazing into the red
flame of the fire, — red and fitful through the blue
smoke, — and thought over her lord's words. It might
be the third part of an hour after Godwin had left the
house, when the door opened, and Githa, expecting the
return of her sons, looked up eagerly, but it was Hilda,
who stooped her head under the vault of the door; and
behind Hilda came two of her maidens, bearing a small
cyst, or chest. The Vala motioned to her attendants
to lay the cyst at the feet of Githa, and that done, with
lowly salutation they left the room.

The superstitions of the Danes were strong in Githa;
and she felt an indescribable awe when Hilda stood
before her, the red light playing on the Vala's stern
marble face, and contrasting robes of funereal black.
But, with all her awe, Githa, who, not educated like
her daughter Edith, had few feminine resources, loved
the visits of her mysterious kinswoman. She loved to
live her youth over again in discourse on the wild cus-

HAROLD 197

toms and dark rites of the Dane; and even her awe
itself had the charm which the ghost tale has to the
child; — for the illiterate are ever children. So, re-
covering her surprise, and her first pause, she rose to
welcome the Vala, and said:

"Hail, Hilda, and thrice hail! The day has been
warm and the way long; and, ere thou takest food and
wine, let me prepare for thee the bath for thy form, or
the bath for thy feet. For as sleep to the young, is
the bath to the old."

Hilda shook her head.

" Bringer of sleep am I, and the baths I prepare are
in the halls of Valhalla. Offer not to the Vala the
bath for mortal weariness, and the wine and the food
meet for human guests. Sit thee down, daughter of
the Dane, and thank thy new gods for the past that
hath been thine. Not ours is the present, and the fut-
ure escapes from our dreams; but the past is ours
ever, and all eternity cannot revoke a single joy that
the moment hath known."

Then seating herself in Godwin's large chair, she
leant over her seid-staff, and was silent, as if absorbed
in her thoughts.

"Githa," she said at last, "where is thy lord? I
came to touch his hands and to look on his brow."

" He hath gone forth into the mart, and my sons are
from home; and Harold comes hither, ere night, from
his earldom."

A faint smile, as of triumph, broke over the lips of
the Vala, and then as suddenly yielded to an expres-
sion of great sadness.

" Githa," she said, slowly, " doubtless thou remem-
berest in thy young days to have seen or heard of the
terrible hell-maid Belsta?"

198 HAROLD

"Ay, ay," answered Githa shuddering; "I saw her
once in gloomy weather, driving before her herds of
dark grey cattle. Ay, ay; and my father beheld her
ere his death, riding the air on a wolf, with a snake for
a bridle. Why askest thou?"

" Is it not strange," said Hilda, evading the ques-
tion, " that Belsta, and Heidr, and Hulla of old, the
wolf-riders, the men-devourers, could win to the utter-
most secrets of galdra, though applied only to pur-
poses the direst and fellest to man, and that I, though
ever in the future, — I, though tasking the Nornas not
to afflict a foe, but to shape the careers of those I love,
— I find, indeed, my predictions fulfilled; but how
often, alas ! only in horror and doom ! "

" How so, kinswoman, how so? " said Githa, awed
yet charmed in the awe, and drawing her chair nearer
to the mournful sorceress. " Didst thou not foretell
our return in triumph from the unjust outlawry, and,
lo, it hath come to pass? and hast thou not" (here
Githa's proud face flushed) " foretold also that my
stately Harold shall wear the diadem of a king? "

"Truly, the first came to pass," said Hilda;

" but " she paused, and her eye fell on the cyst ;

then breaking off she continued, speaking to herself
rather than to Githa — " And Harold's dream, what did
that portend? the runes fail me, and the dead give no
voice. And beyond one dim day, in which his be-
trothed shall clasp him with the arms of a bride, all is
dark to my vision — dark — dark. Speak not to me,
Githa; for a burthen, heavy as the stone on a grave,
rests on a weary heart!"

A dead silence succeeded, till, pointing with her staff
to the fire, the Vala said, " Lo, where the smoke and
the flame contend — the smoke rises in dark gyres to

HAROLD 199

the air, and escapes, to join the wrack of clouds.
From the first to the last we trace its birth and its
fall; from the heart of the fire to the descent in the-
rain, so is it with human reason, which is not the light
but the smoke; it struggles but to darken us; it soars
but to melt in the vapour and dew. Yet, lo, the flame
burns in our hearth till the fuel fails, and goes at last,
none know whither. But it lives in the air though we
see it not; it lurks in the stone and waits the flash of
the steel ; it coils round the dry leaves and sere stalks,
and a touch re-illumines it; it plays in the marsh — it
collects in the heavens — it appals us in the lightning
— it gives warmth to the air — life of our life, and the
element of all elements. O Githa, the flame is the
light of the soul, the element everlasting; and it liveth
still, when it escapes from our view; it burneth in the
shapes to which it passes; it vanishes, but it's never
extinct."

So saying, the Vala's lips again closed; and again
both the women sate silent by the great fire, as it
flared and flickered over the deep lines and high feat-
ures of Githa, the Earl's wife, and the calm, un-
wrinkled, solemn face of the melancholy Vala.

CHAPTER II

While these conferences took place in the house of
Godwin, Harold, on his way to London, dismissed his
train to precede him to his father's roof, and, striking
across the country, rode fast and alone towards the
old Roman abode of Hilda. Months had elapsed since
he had seen or heard of Edith. News at that time, I
need not say, was rare and scarce, and limited to pub-

200 HAROLD

lie events, either transmitted by special nuncius or
passing pilgrim, or borne from lip to lip by the talk
of the scattered multitude. But even in his busy and
anxious duties, Harold had in vain sought to banish
from his heart the image of that young girl, whose
life he needed no Vala to predict to him was inter-
woven with the fibres of his own. The obstacles
which, while he yielded to, he held unjust and tyran-
nical, obstacles allowed by his reluctant reason and
his secret ambition — not sanctified by conscience —
only inflamed the deep strength of the solitary passion
his life had known; a passion that, dating from the
very childhood of Edith, had, often unknown to him-
self, animated his desire of fame, and mingled with his
visions of power. Nor, though hope was far and dim,
was it extinct. The legitimate heir of Edward the
Confessor was a prince living in the Court of the Em-
peror, of fair repute, and himself wedded; and Ed-
ward's health, always precarious, seemed to forbid any
very prolonged existence to the reigning king. There-
fore, he thought that through the successor, whose
throne would rest in safety upon Harold's support, he
might easily obtain that dispensation from the Pope
which he knew the present king would never ask —
a dispensation rarely indeed, if ever, accorded to any
subject, and which, therefore, needed all a king's
power to back it.

So in that hope, and fearful lest it should be
quenched for ever by Edith's adoption of the veil and
the irrevocable vow, with a beating, disturbed, but
joyful heart he rode over field and through forest to
the old Roman house.

He emerged at length to the rear of the villa, and
the sun, fast hastening to its decline, shone full upon

HAROLD 201

the rude columns of the Druid temple. And there, as
he had seen her before, when he had first spoken of
love and its barriers, he beheld the young maiden.

He sprang from his horse, and leaving the well-
trained animal loose to browse on the waste land, he
ascended the knoll. He stole noiselessly behind Edith,
and his foot stumbled against the grave-stone of the
dead Titan-Saxon of old. But the apparition, whether
real or fancied, and the dream that had followed, had
long passed from his memory, and no superstition was
in the heart springing to the lips, that cried " Edith "
once again.

The girl started, looked round, and fell upon his
breast.

It was some moments before she recovered con-
sciousness, and then, withdrawing herself gently from
his arms, she leant for support against the Teuton
altar.

She was much changed since Harold had seen her
last: her cheek had grown pale and thin, and her
rounded form seemed wasted; and sharp grief, as he
gazed, shot through the soul of Harold.

" Thou hast pined, thou hast suffered," said he,
mournfully: "and I, who would shed my life's blood
to take one from thy sorrows, or add to one of thy
joys, have been afar, unable to comfort, perhaps only
a cause of thy woe."

"No, Harold," said Edith, faintly, "never of woe;
always of comfort, eyen in absence. I have been ill,
and Hilda hath tried rune and charm all in vain. But
I am better, now that Spring hath come tardily forth,
and I look on the fresh flowers, and hear the song of
the birds."

But tears were in the sound of her voice, while she
spoke.

202 HAROLD

" And they have not tormented thee again with the
thoughts of the convent? "

"They? no; — but my soul, yes. O Harold, release
me from my promise; for the time already hath come
that thy sister foretold to me; the silver cord is loos-
ened, and the golden bowl is broken, and I would fain
take the wings of the dove, and be at peace."

" Is it so ? — Is there peace in the home where the
thought of Harold becomes a sin?"

" Not sin then and there, Harold, not sin. Thy sis-
ter hailed the convent when she thought of prayer for
those she loved."

" Prate not to me of my sister! " said Harold,
through his set teeth. " It is but a mockery to talk of
prayer for the heart that thou thyself rendest in twain.
Where is Hilda? I would see her."

"She hath gone to thy father's house with a gift;
and it was to watch for her return that I sate on the
green knoll."

The Earl then drew near and took her hand, and
sate by her side, and they conversed long. But Harold
saw with a fierce pang that Edith's heart was set upon
the convent, and that even in his presence, and de-
spite his soothing words, she was broken-spirited and
despondent. It seemed as if her youth and life had
gone from her, and the day had come in which she
said, " There is no pleasure."

Never had he seen her thus; and, deeply moved as
well as keenly stung, he rose at length to depart; her
hand lay passive in his parting clasp, and a slight
shiver went over her frame.

** Farewell, Edith ; when I return from Windshore,
I shall be at my old home yonder, and we shall meet
again."

HAROLD 203

Edith's lips murmured inaudibly, and she bent her
eyes to the ground.

Slowly Harold regained his steed, and as he rode
on, he looked behind and waved oft his hand. But
Edith sate motionless, her eyes still on the ground, and
he saw not the tears that fell from them fast and burn-
ing; nor heard he the low voice that groaned amidst
the heathen ruins, " Mary, sweet mother, shelter me
from my own heart!"

The sun had set before Harold gained the long and
spacious abode of his father. All around it lay the
roofs and huts of the great Earl's special tradesmen,
for even his goldsmith was but his freed ceorl. The
house itself stretched far from the Thames inland, with
several low courts built only of timber, rugged and
shapeless, but filled with bold men, then the great fur-
niture of a noble's halls.

Amidst the shouts of hundreds, eager to hold his
stirrup, the Earl dismounted, passed the swarming
hall, and entered the room, in which he found Hilda
and Githa, and Godwin, who had preceded his entry
but a few minutes.

In the beautiful reverence of son to father, which
made one of the loveliest features of the Saxon char-
acter * (as the frequent want of it makes the most hate-
ful of the Norman vices), the all-powerful Harold
bowed his knee to the old Earl, who placed his hand
on his head in benediction, and then kissed him on
the cheek and brow.

" Thy kiss, too, dear mother," said the younger
Earl; and Githa's embrace, if more cordial than her
lord's, was not, perhaps, more fond.

1 The chronicler, however, laments that the household ties,
formerly so strong with the Anglo-Saxon, had been much
weakened in the age prior to the Conquest.

204 HAROLD

" Greet Hilda, my son," said Godwin, " she hath
brought me a gift, and she hath tarried to place it
under thy special care. Thou alone must heed the
treasure, and open the casket. But when and where,
my kinswoman?"

" On the sixth day after thy coming to the King's
hall," answered Hilda, not returning the smile with
which Godwin spoke, — " on the sixth day, Harold,
open the chest, ,and take out the robe which hath been
spun in the house of Hilda for Godwin the Earl. And
now, Godwin, I have clasped thine hand, and I have
looked on thy brow, and my mission is done, and I
must wend homeward."

" That shalt thou not, Hilda," said the hospitable
Earl; "the meanest wayfarer hath a right to bed and
board in this house for a night and a day, and thou
wilt not disgrace us by leaving our threshold, the
bread unbroken, and the couch unpressed. Old
friend, we were young together, and thy face is wel-
come to me as the memory of former days."

Hilda shook her head, and one of those rare, and
for that reason most touching, expressions of tender-
ness of which the calm and rigid character of her feat-
ures, when in repose, seemed scarcely susceptible,
softened her eye, and relaxed the firm lines of her lips.

" Son of Wolnoth," said she, gently, " not under thy
roof-tree should lodge the raven of bode. Bread have
I not broken since yestere'en, and sleep will be far
from my eyes to-night. Fear not, for my people with-
out are stout and armed, and for the rest there lives
not the man whose arm can have power over Hilda."

She took Harold's hand as she spoke, and leading
him forth, whispered in his ear, " I would have a word
with thee ere we part." Then, reaching the thresh-

HAROLD 205

old, she waved her hand thrice over the floor, and mut-
tered in the Danish tongue a rude verse, which, trans-
lated, ran -somewhat thus :

" All free from the knot

Glide the thread of the skein,
And rest to the labour,
And peace to the pain ! "

" It is a death-dirge," said Githa, with whitening
lips, but she spoke inly, and neither husband nor son
heard her words.

Hilda and Harold passed in silence through the hall,
and the Vala's attendants, with spears and torches,
rose from the settles, and went before to the outer
court, where snorted impatiently her black palfrey.

Halting in the midst of the court, she said to Har-
old, in a low voice :

" At sunset we part — at sunset we shall meet again.
And behold, the star rises on the sunset; and the star,
broader and brighter, shall rise on the sunset then!
When thy hand draws the robe from the chest, think
on Hilda, and know that at that hour she stands by
the grave of the Saxon warrior, and that from the
grave dawns the future. Farewell to thee!"

Harold longed to speak to her of Edith, but a
strange awe at his heart chained his lips; so he stood
silent by the great wooden gates of the rude house.
The torches flamed round him, and Hilda's face
seemed lurid in the glare. There he stood musing
long after torch and ceorl had passed away, nor did
he wake from his reverie till Gurth, springing from his
panting horse, passed his arm round the Earl's shoul-
der, and cried:

" How did I miss thee, my brother? and why didst
thou forsake thy train?"

206 HAROLD

" I will tell thee anon. Gurth, has my father ailed?
There is that in his face which I like not."

" He hath not complained of misease," said Gurth,
startled; " hut now thou speakest of it, his mood hath
altered of late, and he hath wandered much alone, or
only with the old hound and the old falcon."

Then Harold turned back, and, his heart was full;
and, when he reached the house, his father was sitting
in the hall on his chair of state; and Githa sate on his
right hand, and a little below her sate Tostig and Leof-
wine, who had come in from the bear-hunt by the
river-gate, and were talking loud and merrily; and
thegns and cnehts sate all around, and there was was-
sail as Harold entered. But the Earl looked only to
his father, and he saw that his eyes were absent from
the glee, and that he was bending his head over the
old falcon, which sate on his wrist.

CHAPTER III

No subject of England, since the race of Cerdic
sate on the throne, ever entered the court-yard of
Windshore with such train and such state as Earl God-
win.— Proud of that first occasion, sinc£ his return, to
do homage to him with whose cause that of England
against the stranger was bound, all truly English at
heart amongst the thegns of the land swelled his ret-
inue. Whether Saxon or Dane, those who alike loved
the laws and the soil, came from north and from south
to the peaceful banner of the old Earl. But most of
these were of the past generation, for the rising race
were still dazzled by the pomp of the Norman; and
the fashion of English manners, and the pride in Eng-

HAROLD 207

lish deeds, had gone out of date with long locks and
bearded chins. Nor there were the bishops and ab-
bots and the lords of the Church, — for dear to them
already the fame of the Norman piety, and they shared
the distaste of their holy King to the strong sense
and homely religion of Godwin, who founded no con-
vents, and rode to war with no relics round his neck.
But they with Godwin were the stout and the frank
and the free, in whom rested the pith and marrow of
English manhood; and they who were against him
were the blind and willing and fated fathers of slaves
unborn.

Not then the stately castle we now behold, which
is of the masonry of a prouder race, nor on the same
site, but two miles distant on the winding of the river
shore (whence it took its name), a rude building
partly of timber and partly of Roman brick, adjoin-
ing a large monastery and surrounded by a small
hamlet, constituted the palace of the saint-king.

So rode the Earl and his four fair sons, all abreast,
into the court-yard of Windshore.1 Now when King
Edward heard the tramp of the steeds and the hum
of the multitudes, as he sate in his closet with his ab-
bots and priests, all in still contemplation of the thumb
of St. Jude, the King asked:

" What army, in the day of peace, and the time of
Easter, enters the gates of our palace?"

Then an abbot rose and looked out of the narrow
window, and said with a groan:

1 Some authorities .state Winchester as the scene of these
memorable festivities. Old Windsor Castle is supposed by
Mr. Lysons to have occupied the site of a farm of Mr. Isher-
wood's surrounded by a moat, about two miles distant from
New Windsor. He conjectures that it was still occasionally
inhabited by the Norman kings till mo. The ville surround-
ing it only contained ninety-five houses, paying gabcl-tax, in
the Norman survey-

208 HAROLD

"Army thou mayst well call it, O King! — and foes
to us and to thee head the legions "

" Inprinis," quoth our abbot the scholar; "thou
speakest, I trow, of the wicked Earl and his sons."

The King's face changed. " Come they," said he,
"with so large a train? This smells more of vaunt
than of loyalty; naught — very naught."

" Alack! " said one of the conclave, " I fear me that
the men of Belial will work us harm; the heathen are
mighty, and "

" Fear not," said Edward, with benign loftiness,
observing that his guests grew pale, and himself,
though often weak to childishness, and morally waver-
ing and irresolute, — still so far king and gentleman,
that he knew no craven fear of the body. " Fear not
for me, my fathers; humble as I am, I am strong
in the faith of heaven and its angels."

The Churchmen looked at each other, sly yet
abashed; it was not precisely for the King that they
feared.

Then spoke Aired, the good prelate and constant
peacemaker — fair column and lone one of the fast-
crumbling Saxon Church. " It is ill in you, brethren,
to arraign the truth and good meaning of those who
honour your King; and in these days that lord should
ever be the most welcome who brings to the halls of
his king the largest number of hearts, stout and leal."

" By your leave, brother Aired," said Stigand, who,
though from motives of policy he had aided those
who besought the King not to peril his crown by
resisting the return of Godwin, benefited too largely
by the abuses of the Church to be sincerely espoused
to the cause of the strong-minded Earl; "By your
leave, brother Aired, to every leal heart is a ravenous

HAROLD 209

mouth; and the treasures of the King are wellnigh
drained in feeding these hungry and welcomeless visi-
tors. Durst I counsel my lord I would pray him, as
a matter of policy, to baffle this astute and proud Earl.
He would fain have the King feast in public, that he
might daunt him and the Church with the array of
his friends."

" I conceive thee, my father," said Edward, with
more quickness than habitual, and with the cunning,
sharp though guileless, that belongs to minds unde-
veloped, " I conceive thee ; it is good and most politic.
This our orgulous Earl shall not have his triumph,
and, so fresh from his exile, brave his King with the
mundane parade of his power. Our health is our ex-
cuse for our absence from the banquet, and, sooth to
say, we marvel much why Easter should be held a
fitting time for feasting and mirth. Wherefore, Hugo-
line, my chamberlain, advise the Earl that to-day we
keep fast till the sunset, when temperately, with eggs,
bread, and fish, we will sustain Adam's nature. Pray
him and his sons to attend us — they alone be our
guests." And with a sound that seemed a laugh, or
the ghost of a laugh, low and chuckling — for Edward
had at moments an innocent humour which his monk-
ish biographer disdained not to note,1 — he flung him-
self back in his chair. The priests took the cue, and
shook their sides heartily, as Hugoline left the room,
not ill pleased, by the way, to escape an invitation to
the eggs, bread, and fish.

Aired sighed; and said, " For the Earl and his sons,
this is honour; but the other earls, and the thegns,
will miss at the banquet him whom they design but to
honour, and "

1 AILRED, de V\t. Edward. Confess.
VOL. I.— M

210 HAROLD

" I have said," interrupted Edward, drily, and with
a look of fatigue.

" And," observed another Churchman, with malice,
" at least the young Earls will be humbled, for they
will not sit with the King and their father, as they
would in the Hall, and must serve my lord with
napkin and wine."

" Inprinis" quoth our scholar the abbot, " that will
be rare! I would I were by to see. But this Godwin
is a man of treachery and wile, and my lord should
beware of the fate of murdered Alfred, his brother! "

The King started, and pressed his hands to his eyes.

" How darest thou, Abbot Fatchere," cried Aired,
indignantly; " How darest thou revive grief with-
out remedy, and slander without proof? "

" Without proof? " echoed Edward, in a hollow
voice. " He who could murder, could well stoop to
forswear! Without proof before man; but did he try
the ordeals of God? — did his feet pass the plough-
share?— did his hand grasp the seething iron? Verily,
verily, thou didst wrong to name to me Alfred my
brother! I shall see his sightless and gore-dropping
sockets in the face of Godwin, this day, at my board."

The King rose in great disorder; and, after pacing
the room some moments, disregardful of the silent
and scared looks of his Churchmen, waved his hand,
in sign to them to depart. All took the hint at once
save Aired; but he, lingering the last, approached the
King with dignity in his step and compassion in his
eyes.

" Banish from thy breast, O King and son, thoughts
unmeet, and of doubtful charity! All that man could
know of Godwin's innocence or guilt — the suspicion
of the vulgar — the acquittal of his peers — was known

HAROLD 211

to thee before thou didst seek his aid for thy throne,
and didst take his child for thy wife. Too Jate is it
now to suspect; leave thy doubts to the solemn day,
which draws nigh to the old man, thy wife's father! "

" Ha! " said the king, seeming not to heed, or wil-
fully to misunderstand the prelate, " Ha! leave him to
God;— I will!"

He turned away impatiently; and the prelate reluc-
tantly departed.

CHAPTER IV

Tostig chafed mightily at the King's message; and,
on Harold's attempt to pacify him, grew so violent
that nothing short of the cold stern command of his
father, who carried with him that weight of authority
never known but to those in whom wrath is still and
passion noiseless, imposed sullen peace on his son's
rugged nature. But the taunts heaped by Tostig
upon Harold disquieted the old Earl, and his brow
was yet sad with prophetic care when he entered the
royal apartments. He had been introduced into the
King's presence but a moment before Hugoline led
the way to the chamber of repast, and the greeting
between King and Earl had been brief and formal.

Under the canopy of state were placed but two
chairs, for the King and the Queen's father; and the
four sons, Harold, Tostig, Leofwine, and Gurth, stood
behind. Such was the primitive custom of ancient
Teutonic kings; and the feudal Norman monarchs only
enforced, though with more pomp and more rigour,
the ceremonial of the forest patriarchs — youth to wait
on age, and the ministers of the realm on those whom
their policy had made chiefs in council and war.

212 HAROLD

The Earl's P'ind, already embittered by the scene
with his sons, was chafed yet more by the King's un-
loving coldness; for it is natural to man, however
worldly, to feel affection for those he has served, and
Godwin had won Edward his crown; nor, despite his
warlike though bloodless return, could even monk or
Norman, in counting up the old Earl's crimes, say
that he had ever failed in personal respect to the King
he had made; nor over-great for subject, as the Earl's
power must be confessed, will historian now be found
to say that it had not been well for Saxon England
if Godwin had found more favour with his King, and
monk and Norman less.1

So the old Earl's stout heart was stung, and he
looked from those deep, impenetrable eyes, mourn-
fully upon Edward's chilling brow.

And Harold, with whom all household ties were
strong, but to whom his great father was especially
dear, watched his face and saw that it was very flushed.
But the practised courtier sought to rally his spirits,
and to smile and jest.

From smile and jest, the King turned and asked for
wine. Harold, starting, advanced with the goblet; as
he did so, he stumbled with one foot, but lightly re-
covered himself with the other; and Tostig laughed
scornfully at Harold's awkwardness.

The old Earl observed both stumble and laugh, and
willing to suggest a lesson to both his sons, said1 —

1 " Is it astonishing," asked the people (referring to Ed-
ward's preference of the Normans), "that the author and
support of Edward's reign should be indignant at seeing new
men from a foreign nation raised above him, and yet never
does he utter one harsh word to the man whom he himself
created king?" — HAZLITT'S THIERRY, vol. i. p. 126.

This is the English account (versus the Norman). There
can be little doubt that it is the true one.

HAROLD 213

laughing pleasantly — " Lo, Harold, how the left foot
saves the right ! — so one brother, thou seest, helps the
other!"1

King Edward looked up suddenly.

" And so, Godwin, also, had my brother Alfred
helped me, hadst thou permitted."

The old Earl, galled to the quick, gazed a moment
on the King, and his cheek was purple, and his eyes
seemed bloodshot.

" O Edward! " he exclaimed, " thou speakest to me
hardly and unkindly of thy brother Alfred, and often
hast thou thus more than hinted that I caused his
death."

The King made no answer.

" May this crumb of bread choke me," said the
Earl, in great emotion, " if I am guilty of thy brother's
blood!"2

But scarcely had the bread touched his lips, when
his eyes fixed, the long warning symptoms were ful-
filled. And he fell to the ground, under the table,
sudden and heavy, smitten by the stroke of apoplexy.

Harold and Gurth sprang forward; they drew their
father from the ground. His face, still deep-red with
streaks of purple, rested on Harold's breast; and the
son, kneeling, called in anguish on his father: the ear
was deaf.

Then said the King, rising:

" It is the hand of God: remove him! " and he swept
from the room, exulting.

1 Henry of Huntingdon, &c.

2 Henry of Huntingdon ; Bromt. Chron., &c.

214 HAROLD

CHAPTER V

For five days and five nights did Godwin lie speech-
less.1 And Harold watched over him night and day.
And the leaches 2 would not bleed him, because the
season was against it, in the increase of the moon and
the tides; but they bathed his temples with wheat flour
boiled in milk, according to a prescription which an
angel in a dream 3 had advised to another patient ; and
they placed a plate of lead on his breast, marked with
five crosses, saying a paternoster over each cross; to-
gether with other medical specifics in great esteem.4
But, nevertheless, five days and five nights did God-
win lie speechless; and the leaches then feared that
human skill was in vain.

The effect produced on the court, not more by the
Earl's death-stroke than the circumstances preceding
it, was such as defies description. With Godwin's
old comrades in arms it was simple and honest grief;
but with all those under the influence of the priests,
the event was regarded as a direct punishment from
Heaven. The previous words of the King, repeated
by Edward to his monks, circulated from lip to lip,
with sundry exaggerations as it travelled: and the
superstition of the day had the more excuse, inasmuch
as the speech of Godwin touched near upon the de-
fiance of one of the most popular ordeals of the ac-
cused,— viz. that called the " corsned," in which a
piece of bread was given to the supposed criminal;

1 Hoveden.

2 The origin of the word leach (physician), which has puz-
zled some inquirers, is from lich or leac, a body. Lcich is the
old Saxon word for surgeon.

3 Sharon Turner, vol. i. p. 472.

4 Fosbrooke.

HAROLD 215

if he swallowed it with ease he was innocent ; if it stuck
in his throat, or choked him, nay, if he shook and
turned pale, he was guilty. Godwin's words had ap-
peared to invite the ordeal, God had heard and
stricken down the presumptuous perjurer!

Unconscious, happily, of these attempts to blacken
the name of his dying father, Harold, towards the grey
dawn succeeding the fifth night, thought that he heard
Godwin stir in his bed. So he put aside the curtain,
and bent over him. The old Earl's eyes were wide
open, and the red colour had gone from his cheeks,
so that he was pale as death.

" How fares it, dear father ? " asked Harold.

Godwin smiled fondly, and tried to speak, but his
voice died in a convulsive rattle. Lifting himself up,
however, with an effort, he pressed tenderly the hand
that clasped his own, leant his head on Harold's breast,
and so gave up the ghost.

When Harold was at last aware that the struggle
was over, he laid the grey head gently on the pillow;
he closed the eyes, and kissed the lips, and knelt
down and prayed. Then, seating himself at a little
distance, he covered his face with his mantle.

At this time his brother Gurth, who had chiefly
shared watch with Harold, — for Tostig, foreseeing his
father's death, was busy soliciting thegn and earl to
support his own claims to the earldom about to be
vacant; and Leofwine had gone to London on the pre-
vious day to summon Githa who was hourly expected
— Gurth, I say, entered the room on tiptoe, and seeing
his brother's attitude, guessed that all was over. He
passed on to the table, took up the lamp, and looked
long on his father's face. That strange smile of the
dead, common alike to innocent and guilty, had al-

216 HAROLD

ready settled on the serene lips; and that no less
strange transformation from age to youth, when the
wrinkles vanish, and the features come out clear and
sharp from the hollows of care and years, had already
begun. And the old man seemed sleeping in his
prime.

So Gurth kissed the dead, as Harold had done be-
fore him, and came up and sate himself by his broth-
er's feet, and rested his head on Harold's knee; nor
would he speak till, appalled by the long silence of the
Earl, he drew away the mantle from his brother's face
with a gentle hand, and the large tears were rolling
down Harold's cheeks.

" Be soothed, my brother," said Gurth; " our father
has lived for glory, his age was prosperous, and his
years more than those which the Psalmist allots to
man. Come and look on his face, Harold; its calm
will comfort thee."

Harold obeyed the hand that led him like a child;
in passing towards the bed, his eye fell upon the cyst
which Hilda had given to the old Earl, and a chill shot
through his veins.

" Gurth," said he, " is not this the morning of the
sixth day in which we have been at the King's
Court?"

" It is the morning of the sixth day."

Then Harold took forth the key which Hilda had
given him, and unlocked the cyst, and there lay the
white winding-sheet of the dead, and a scroll. Harold
took the scroll, and bent over it, reading by the min-
gled light of the lamp and the dawn :

" All hail, Harold, heir of Godwin the great, and
Githa the king-born! Thou hast obeyed Hilda, and
thou knowest now that Hilda's eyes read the future,

HAROLD 217

and her lips speak the dark words of truth. Bow thy
heart to the Vala, and mistrust the wisdom that sees
only the things of the daylight. As the valour of the
warrior and the song of the scald, so is the lore of the
prophetess. It is not of the body, it is soul within
soul; it marshals events and men, like the valour — it
moulds the air into substance, like the song. Bow thy
heart to the Vala. Flowers bloom over the grave of
the dead. And the young plant soars high, when the
king of the woodland lies low! "

CHAPTER VI

The sun rose, and the stairs and passages without
were filled with the crowds that pressed to hear news
of the Earl's health. The doors stood open, and
Gurth led in the multitude to look their last on the
hero of council and camp, who had restored with
strong hand and wise brain the race of Cerdic to
the Saxon throne. Harold stood by the bed-head
silent, and tears were shed and sobs were heard. And
many a thegn who had before half believed in the guilt
of Godwin as the murderer of Alfred, whispered in
gasps to his neighbour:

" There is no weregeld for manslaying on the head
of him who smiles so in death on his old comrades in
life!"

Last of all lingered Leofric, the great Earl of Mer-
cia; and when the rest had departed, he took the pale
hand, that lay heavy on the coverlid, in his own,
and said:

" Old foe, often stood we in Witan and field against
each other; but few are the friends for whom Leofric

218 HAROLD

would mourn as he mourns for thee. Peace to thy
soul! Whatever its sins, England should judge thee
mildly, for England beat in each pulse of thy heart,
and with thy greatness was her own! "

Then Harold stole round the bed, and put his arms
round Leofric's neck, and embraced him. The good
old Earl was touched, and he laid his tremulous hands
on Harold's brown locks and blessed him.

" Harold," he said, " thou succeedest to thy father's
power: let thy father's foes be thy friends. Wake
from thy grief, for thy country now demands thee, —
the honour of thy House, and the memory of the dead.
Many even now plot against thee and thine. Seek the
King, demand as thy right thy father's earldom, and
Leofric will back thy claim in the Witan."

Harold pressed Leofric's hand, and raising it to his
lips replied: " Be our Houses at peace henceforth and
for ever."

Tostig's vanity indeed misled him, when he dreamed
that any combination of Godwin's party could meditate
supporting his claims against the popular Harold —
nor less did the monks deceive themselves, when they
supposed that, with Godwin's death, the power of his
family would fall.

There was more than even the unanimity of the
chiefs of the Witan, in favour of Harold ; there was that
universal noiseless impression throughout all Eng-
land, Danish and Saxon, that Harold was now the sole
man on whom rested the state — which, whenever it
so favours one individual, is irresistible. Nor was Ed-
ward himself hostile to Harold, whom alone of that
House, as we have before said, he esteemed and loved,

Harold was at once named Earl of Wessex; and re-
linquishing the earldom he held before, he did not hesi-

HAROLD 219

tate as to the successor to be recommended in his
place. Conquering all jealousy and dislike for Algar,
he united the strength of his party in favour of the
son of Leofric, and the election fell upon him. With
all his hot errors, the claims of no other Earl, whether
from his own capacities or his father's services, were
so strong; and his election probably saved the state
from a great danger, in the results of that angry mood
and that irritated ambition with which he had thrown
himself into the arms of England's most valiant ag-
gressor, Gryffyth, King of North Wales.

To outward appearance, by this election, the House
of Leofric — uniting in father and son the two mighty
districts of Mercia and the East Anglians — became
more powerful than that of Godwin; for, in that last
House, Harold was now the only possessor of one of
the great earldoms, and Tostig and the other brothers
had no other provision beyond the comparatively in-
significant lordships they held before. But if Harold
had ruled no earldom at all, he had still been immeas-
urably the first man in England — so great was the
confidence reposed in his valour and wisdom. He was
of that height in himself, that he needed no pedestal
to stand on.

The successor of the first great founder of a House
succeeds to more than his predecessor's power, if he
but know how to wield and maintain it. For who
makes his way to greatness without raising foes at
every step? and who ever rose to power supreme, with-
out grave cause for blame? But Harold stood free
from the enmities his father had provoked, and pure
from the stains that slander or repute cast upon his
father's name. The sun of the yesterday had shone
through cloud ; the sun of the day rose in a clear firma-

220 HAROLD

ment. Even Tostig recognised the superiority of his
brother; and after a strong struggle between baffled
rage and covetous ambition, yielded to him, as to a
father. He felt that all Godwin's House was centred
in Harold alone; and that only from his brother (de-
spite his own daring valour and despite his alliance
with the blood of Charlemagne and Alfred, through
the sister of Matilda, the Norman duchess,) could his
avarice of power be gratified.

" Depart to thy home, my brother," said Earl Har-
old, to Tostig, " and grieve not that Algar is preferred
to thee. For, even had his claim been less urgent, ill
would it have beseemed us to arrogate the lordships
of all England as our dues. Rule thy lordship with
wisdom: gain the love of thy lithsmen. High claims
hast thou in our father's name, and moderation now
will but strengthen thee in the season to come. Trust
on Harold somewhat, on thyself more. Thou hast but
to add temper and judgment to valour and zeal, to be
worthy mate of the first earl in England. Over my
father's corpse I embraced my father's foe. Between
brother and brother shall there not be love, as the best
bequest of the dead?"

" It shall not be my fault, if there be not," answered
Tostig, humbled though chafed. And he summoned
his men and returned to his domains.

CHAPTER VII

Fair, broad, and calm set the sun over the western
woodlands. Hilda stood on the mount, and looked
with undazzled eyes on the sinking orb. Beside her,
Edith reclined on the sward, and seemed with idle
hand tracing characters in the air. The girl had

HAROLD 221

grown paler still, since Harold last parted from her
on the same spot, and the same listless and despondent
apathy stamped her smileless lips and her bended
head.

" See, child of my heart," said Hilda, addressing
Edith, while she still gazed on the western luminary,
" see, the sun goes down to the far deeps, where Rana
and ./Egir * watch over the worlds of the sea; but with
morning he comes from the halls of the Asas — the
golden gates of the East — and joy comes in his train.
And yet thou thinkest, sad child, whose years have
scarce passed into woman, that the sun, once set, never
comes back to life. But even while we speak, thy
morning draws near, and the dunness of cloud takes
the hues of the rose! "

Edith's hand paused from its vague employment,
and fell droopingly on her knee; — she turned with an
unquiet and anxious eye to Hilda, and after looking
some moments wistfully at the Vala, the colour rose
to her cheek, and she said in a voice that had an ac-
cent half of anger:

"Hilda, thou art cruel!"

" So is Fate! " answered the Vala. " But men call
not Fate cruel when it smiles on their desires. Why
callest thou Hilda cruel, when she reads in the set-
ting sun the runes of thy coming joy! "

" There is no joy for me," returned Edith, plaintive-
ly; "and I have that on my heart," she added, with
a sudden and almost fierce change of tone, " which at

1 2Eg\r, the Scandinavian god of the ocean. Not one of the
Aser, or Asas (the celestial race), but sprung from the giants.
Ran or Rana, his wife, a more malignant character, who caused
shipwrecks, and drew to herself, by a net, all that fell into the
sea. The offspring of this marriage were nine daughters, who
became the Billows, the Currents, and the Storms.

222 HAROLD

last I will dare to speak. I reproach thee, Hilda, that
thou hast marred all my life, that thou hast duped
me with dreams, and left me alone in despair."

" Speak on," said Hilda, calmly, as a nurse to a
froward child.

" Hast thou not told me, from the first dawn of my
wondering reason, that my life and lot were interwoven
with — with (the word, mad and daring, must out) —
with those of Harold the peerless? But for that, which
my infancy took from thy lips as a law, I had never
been so vain and so frantic! I had never watched
each play of his face, and treasured each word from
his lips; I had never made my life but part of his life
• — all my soul but the shadow of his sun. But for that,
I had hailed the calm of the cloister — but for that, I
had glided in peace to my grave. And now — now,
O Hilda — " Edith paused, and that break had more
eloquence than any words she could command.
" And," she resumed quickly, " thou knowest that
these hopes were but dreams — that the law ever stood
between him and me — and that it was guilt to love
him."

" I knew the law," answered Hilda, " but the law of
fools is to the wise as the cobweb swung over the
brake to the wing of the bird. Ye are sibbe to each
other, some five times removed; and therefore an old
man at Rome saith that ye ought not to wed. When
the shavelings obey the old man at Rome, and put
aside their own wives and frillas,1 and abstain from

1 Frilla, the Danish word for a lady who, often with the
wife's consent, was added to the domestic circle by the hus-
band. The word is here used by Hilda in a general sense of
reproach. Both marriage and concubinage were common
amongst the Anglo-Saxon priesthood, despite the unheeded
canons; and so, indeed, they were with the French clergy.

HAROLD 223

the wine cup, and tne chase, and the brawl, I will stoop
to hear of their laws, — with disrelish it may be, but
without scorn.1 It is no sin to love Harold; and no
monk and no law shall prevent your union on the day
appointed to bring ye together, form and heart."

"Hilda! Hilda! madden me not with joy," cried
Edith, starting up in rapturous emotion, her young
face dyed with blushes, and all her renovated beauty
so celestial that Hilda herself was almost awed, as if
by the vision of Freya, the northern Venus, charmed
by a spell from the halls of Asgard.

" But that day is distant," renewed the Vala.

"What matters! what matters!" cried the pure
child of Nature; "I ask but hope. Enough, — oh!
enough, if we were but wedded on the borders of the
grave ! "

" Lo, then," said Hilda, " behold, the sun of thy
life dawns again ! "

As she spoke, the Vala stretched her arm, and
through the intersticed columns of the fane, Edith saw
the large shadow of a man cast over the still sward.
Presently into the space of the circle came Harold, her
beloved. His face was pale with grief yet recent; but,
perhaps, more than ever, dignity was in his step and
command on his brow, for he felt that now alone with
him rested the might of Saxon England. And what
royal robe so invests with imperial majesty the form
of a man as the grave sense of power responsible, in
an earnest soul?

" Thou comest," said Hilda, " in the hour I pre-
dicted; at the setting of the sun and the rising of the
star."

1 Hilda, not only as a heathen, but as a Dane, would be no
favourer of monks ; they were unknown in Denmark at that
time, and the Danes held them in odium. — Ord. Vital., lib. vii.

224 HAROLD

" Vala," said Harold, gloomily, " I will not oppose
my sense to thy prophecies; for who shall judge of
that power of which he knows not the elements? or
despise the marvel of which he cannot detect the im-
' posture? But leave me, I pray thee, to walk in the
broad light of the common day. These hands are
made to grapple with things palpable, and these eyes
to measure the forms that front my way. In my
youth, I turned in despair or disgust from the subtle-
ties of the schoolmen, which split upon hairs the brains
of Lombard and Frank; in my busy and stirring man-
hood entangle me not in the meshes which confuse
all my reason, and sicken my waking thoughts into
dreams of awe. Mine be the straight path and the
plain goal ! "

The Vala gazed on him with an earnest look, that
partook of admiration, and yet more of gloom ; but she
spoke not, and Harold resumed:

" Let the dead rest, Hilda, — proud names with
glory on earth and shadows escaped from our ken, sub-
missive to mercy in heaven. A vast chasm have my
steps overleapt since we met, O Hilda — sweet Edith;
a vast chasm, but a narrow grave." His voice fal-
tered a moment, and again he renewed, — " Thou
weepest, Edith; ah, how thy tears console me! Hilda,
hear me! I love thy grandchild — loved her by irre-
sistible instinct since her blue eyes first smiled on
mine. I loved her in her childhood, as in her youth
— in the blossom as in the flower. And thy grand-
child loves me. The laws of the Church proscribe our
marriage, and therefore we parted; but I feel, and
thine Edith feels, that the love remains as strong in
absence: no other will be her wedded lord, no other
my wedded wife. Therefore, with heart made soft by

HAROLD 225

sorrow, and, in my father's death, sole lord of my fate,
I return, and say to thee in her presence, ' Suffer us
to hope still ! ' The day may come when under some
king less enthralled than Edward by formal Church
laws, we may obtain from the Pope absolution for our
nuptials — a day, perhaps, far off; but we are both
young, and love is strong and patient: we can wait."
"O Harold," exclaimed Edith, "we can wait!"
" Have I not told thee, son of Godwin," said the
Vala, solemnly, " that Edith's skein of life was inwoven
with thine? Dost thou deem that my charms have
not explored the destiny of the last of my race? Know
that it is in the decrees of the fates that ye are to be
united, never more to be divided. Know that there
shall come a day, though I can see not its morrow, and
it lies dim and afar, which shall be the most glorious
of thy life, and on which Edith and fame shall be thine,
— the day of thy nativity, on which hitherto all things
have prospered with thee. In vain against the stars
preach the mone and the priest: what shall be, shall
be. Wherefore, take hope and joy, O Children of
Time! And now, as I join your hands, I betroth your
souls."

Rapture unalloyed and unprophetic, born of love
deep and pure, shone in the eyes of Harold, as he
clasped the hand of his promised bride. But an in-
voluntary and mysterious shudder passed over Edith's
frame, and she leant close, close, for support upon
Harold's breast. And, as if by a vision, there rose
distinct in her memory a stern brow, a form of power
and terror — the brow and the form of him who but
once again in her waking life th'e Prophetess had told
her she should behold. The vision passed away in
the warm clasp of those protecting arms; and looking
VOL. I.— is

226 HAROLD

up into Harold's face, she there beheld the mighty and
deep delight that transfused itself at once into her own
soul.

Then Hilda, placing one hand over their heads, and
raising the other towards heaven, all radiant with burst-
ing stars, said in her deep and thrilling tones:

" Attest the betrothal of these young hearts, O ye
Powers that draw nature to nature by spells which no
galdra can trace, and have wrought in the secrets of
creation no mystery so perfect as love, — Attest it, thou
temple, thou altar! — attest it, O sun and O air! While
the forms are divided, may the souls cling together —
sorrow with sorrow, and joy with joy. And when, at
length, bride and bridegroom are one, — O stars, may
the trouble with which ye are charged have exhausted
its burthen; may no danger molest, and no malice dis-
turb, but, over the marriage-bed, shine in peace, O ye
stars!"

Up rose the moon. May's nightingale called its
mate from the breathless boughs; and so Edith and
Harold were betrothed by the grave of the son of Cer-
dic. And from the line of Cerdic had come, since
Ethelbert, all the Saxon kings who with sword and
with sceptre had reigned over Saxon England.

BOOK VI

AMBITION

CHAPTER I

There was great rejoicing in England. King Ed-
ward had been induced to send Aired the prelate *
to the court of the German Emperor, for his kinsman
and namesake, Edward Atheling, the son of the great
Ironsides. In his childhood, this Prince, with his
brother Edmund, had been committed by Canute to
the charge of his vassal, the King of Sweden; and it
has been said (though without sufficient authority),
that Canute's design was, that they should be secretly
made away with. The King of Sweden, however, for-
warded the children to the court of Hungary; they
were there honourably reared and received. Edmund
died young, without issue. Edward married a daugh-
ter of the German Emperor, and during the commo-
tions in England, and the successive reigns of Harold
Harefoot, Hardicanute, and the Confessor, had re-
mained forgotten in his exile, until now suddenly re-
called to England as the heir presumptive of his child-
less namesake. He arrived with Agatha his wife, one
infant son, Edgar, and two daughters, Margaret and
Christina.

Great were the rejoicings. The vast crowd that had
followed the royal visitors in their procession to the

1 Chron. Knyghton.
"7

228 HAROLD

old London palace (not far from St. Paul's) in which
they were lodged, yet swarmed through the streets,
when two thegns who had personally accompanied the
Atheling from Dover, and had just taken leave of him,
now emerged from the palace, and with some difficulty
made their way through the crowded streets.

The one in the dress and short hair imitated from
the Norman, was our old friend Godrith, whom the
reader may remember as the rebuker of Taillefer, and
the friend of Mallet de Graville; the other, in a plain
linen Saxon tunic, and the gonna worn on state occa-
sions, to which he seemed unfamiliar, but with heavy
gold bracelets on his arms, long haired and bearded,
was Vebba, the Kentish thegn, who had served as
nuncius from Godwin to Edward.

"Troth and faith!" said Vebba, wiping his brow,
" this crowd is enow to make plain man stark wode.
I would not live in London for all the gauds in the
goldsmith's shops, or all the treasures in King Ed-
ward's vaults. My tongue is as parched as a hay-
field in the weyd-month.1 Holy Mother be blessed!
I see a Cumcn-hus 2 open ; let us in and refresh our-
selves with a horn of ale."

" Nay, friend," quoth Godrith, with a slight dis-
dain, " such are not the resorts of men of our rank.
Tarry yet awhile, till we arrive near the bridge by the
river-side; there, indeed, you will find worthy company
and dainty cheer."

" Well, well, I am at your hest, Godrith," said the
Kent man, sighing; " my wife and my sons will be sure
to ask me what sights I have seen, and I may as well
know from thee the last tricks and ways of this hurly-
burly town."

1 Weyd-month. Meadow month, June.
3 Cumen-hus. Tavern.

HAROLD 229

Godrith, who was master of all the fashions in the
reign of our lord King Edward, smiled graciously, and
the two proceeded in silence, only broken by the
sturdy Kent man's exclamations; now of anger when
rudely jostled, now of wonder and delight when, amidst
the throng, he caught sight of a gleeman, with his bear
or monkey, who took advantage of some space near
convent garden, or Roman ruin, to exhibit his craft; till
they gained a long low row of booths, most pleasantly
situated to the left of this side London bridge, and
which was appropriated to the celebrated cookshops,
that even to the time of Fitzstephen retained their fame
and their fashion.

Between the shops and the river was a space of
grass worn brown and bare by the feet of the custom-
ers, with a few clipped trees with vines trained from
one to the other in arcades, under cover of which were
set tables and settles. The place was thickly crowded,
and but for Godrith's popularity amongst the attend-
ants, they might have found it difficult to obtain
accommodation. However, a new table was soon
brought forth, placed close by the cool margin of the
water, and covered in a trice with tankards of hippo-
eras, pigment, ale, and some Gascon, as well as Brit-
ish wines: varieties of the delicious cake-bread for
which England was then renowned; while viands,
strange to the honest eye and taste of the wealthy
Kent man, were served on spits.

" What bird is this? " said he, grumbling.

" O enviable man, it is a Phrygian attagen * that

thou art about to taste for the first time; and when

thou hast recovered that delight, I commend to thee

a Moorish compound, made of eggs and roes of carp

1 Fitzstephen.

230 HAROLD

from the old Southweorc stewponds, which the cooks
here dress notably."

"Moorish! — Holy Virgin!" cried Vebba, with his
mouth full of the Phrygian attagen, " how came any-
thing Moorish in our Christian island? "

Godrith laughed outright.

"Why, our cook here is Moorish; the best singers
in London are Moors. Look yonder! see those grave
comely Saracens! "

" Comely, quotha, burnt and black as a charred
pine-pole!" grunted Vebba; "well, who are they?"

"Wealthy traders; thanks to whom, our pretty
maids have risen high in the market." 1

" More the shame," said the Kent man; "that sell-
ing of English youth to foreign masters, whether male
or female, is a blot on the Saxon name."

" So saith Harold our Earl, and so preach the
monks," returned Godrith. " But thou, my good
friend, who art fond of all things that our ancestors
did, and hast sneered more than once at my Norman
robe and cropped hair, thou shouldst not be the one
to find fault with what our fathers have done since the
days of Cerdic."

" Hem," said the Kent man, a little perplexed, " cer-
tainly old manners are the best, and I suppose there is
some good reason for this practice, which I, who never
trouble myself about matters that concern me not, do
not see."

" Well, Vebba, and how likest thou the Atheling?
he is of the old line," said Godrith.

Again the Kent man looked perplexed, and had re-

1 William of Malmesbury speaks with just indignation of
the Anglo-Saxon custom of selling female servants, either to
public prostitution, or foreign slavery.

HAROLD 231

course to the ale, which he preferred to all more deli-
cate liquor, before he replied:

" Why, he speaks English worse than King Ed-
ward! and as for his boy Edgar, the child can scarce
speak English at all. And then their German carles
and cnehts! — An I had known what manner of folk
they were, I had not spent my manatses in running
from my homestead to give them the welcome. But
they told me that Harold the good Earl had made the
King send for them: and whatever the Earl coun-
selled must, I thought, be wise, and to the weal of
sweet England."

" That is true," said Godrith with earnest emphasis,
for, with all his affectation of Norman manners, he
was thoroughly English at heart, and now among the
staunchest supporters of Harold, who had become no
less the pattern and pride of the young nobles than
the darling of the humbler population, — " that is true
— and Harold showed us his noble English heart when
he so urged the King to his own loss."

As Godrith thus spoke, nay, from the first mention
of Harold's name, two men richly clad, but with their
bonnets drawn far over their brows, and their long
gonnas so worn as to hide their forms, who were
seated at a table behind Godrith and had thus es-
caped his attention, had paused from their wine-cups,
and they now listened with much earnestness to the
conversation that followed.

" How to the Earl's loss? " asked Vebba.

" Why, simple thegn," answered Godrith, " why,
suppose that Edward had refused to acknowledge the
Atheling as his heir, suppose the Atheling had re-
mained in the German court, and our good King died
suddenly, — who, thinkest thou, could succeed to the
English throne?"

232 HAROLD

" Marry, I have never thought of that at all," said
the Kent man, scratching his head.

"No, nor have the English generally; yet whom
could we choose but Harold? "

A sudden start from one of the listeners was
checked by the warning finger of the other; and the
Kent man exclaimed:

"Body o' me! But we have never chosen king
(save the Danes) out of the line of Cerdic. These be
new cranks, with a vengeance; we shall be choosing
German, or Saracen, or Norman next ! "

" Out of the line of Cerdic! but that line is gone,
root and branch, save the Atheling, and he thou seest
is more German than English. Again I say, failing
the Atheling, whom could we choose but Harold,
brother-in-law to the King: descended through Githa
from the royalties of the Norse, the head of all armies
under the Herr-ban, the chief who has never fought
without victory, yet who has always preferred con-
ciliation to conquest — the first counsellor in the Witan
— the first man in the realm — who but Harold? answer
me, staring Vebba? "

" I take in thy words slowly," said the Kent man,
shaking his head, " and after all, it matters little who
is king, so he be a good one. Yes, I see now that the
Earl was a just and generous man when he made the
King send for the Atheling. Drink-hsel! long life to
them both ! "

" Was-hsel," answered Godrith, draining his hippo-
eras to Vebba's more potent ale. " Long life to them
both! may Edward the Atheling reign, but Harold the
Earl rule! Ah, then, indeed, we may sleep without
fear of fierce Algar and still fiercer Gryffyth the Wal-
loon— who now, it is true, are stilled for the moment,

HAROLD 233

thanks to Harold — but not more still than the smooth
waters in Gwyned, that lie just above the rush of a
torrent."

" So little news hear I," said Vebba, " and in Kent
so little are we plagued with the troubles elsewhere,
(for there Harold governs us, and the hawks come not
where the eagles hold eyrie!) — that I will thank thee
to tell me something about our old Earl for a year,1
Algar the restless, and this Gryffyth the Welch King,
so that I may seem a wise man when I go back to my
homestead."

" Why, thou knowest at least that Algar and Harold
were ever opposed in the W'itan, and hot words thou
hast heard pass between them!"

"Marry, yes! But Algar was as little match for
Earl Harold in speech as in sword play."

Now again one of the listeners started, (but it was
not the same as the one before,) and muttered an
angry exclamation.

" Yet is he a troublesome foe," said Godrith, who
did not hear the sound Vebba had provoked, " and a
thorn in the side both of the Earl and of England ; and
sorrowful for both England and Earl was it, that Har-
old refused to marry Aldyth, as it is said his father,
wise Godwin, counselled and wished."

" Ah ! but I have heard scops and harpers sing
pretty songs that Harold loves Edith the Fair, a won-
drous proper maiden, they say ! "

" It is true; and for the sake of his love, he played
ill for his ambition."

" I like him the better for that," said the honest

1 It will be remembered that Algar governed Wessex, which
principality included Kent, during the year of Godwin's out-
lawry.

234 HAROLD

Kent man: " why does he not marry the girl at once?
she hath broad lands, I know, for they run from the
Sussex shore into Kent."

" But they are cousins five times removed, and the
Church forbids the marriage; nevertheless Harold
lives only for Edith; they have exchanged the true-
lofa,1 and it is whispered that Harold hopes the Athel-
ing, when he comes to be King, will get him the Pope's
dispensation. But to return to Algar; in a day most
unlucky he gave his daughter to Gryffyth, the most
turbulent sub-king the land ever knew, who, it is said,
will not be content till he has won all Wales for himself
without homage or service, and the Marches to boot.
Some letters between him and Earl Algar, to whom
Harold had secured the earldom of the East Angles,
were discovered, and in a Witan at Winchester thou
wilt doubtless have heard, (for thou didst not, I know,
leave thy lands to attend it,) that Algar 2 was out'
lawed."

1 Trulofa, from which comes our popular corruption " true
lover's knot ; " a veiere Danico trulofa, i.e., fidem do, to pledge
faith. — HICKE'S Thesaur.

" A knot, among the ancient northern nations, seems to have
been the emblem of love, faith, and friendship." — BRANDE'S
Pop. Antiq.

2 The Saxon Chronicle contradicts itself as to Algar's out-
lawry, stating in one passage that he was outlawed without
any kind of guilt, and in another that he was outlawed as
swikc, or traitor, and that he made a confession of it before
all the men there gathered. His treason, however, seems nat-
urally occasioned by his close connection with Gryffyth, and
proved by his share in that King's rebellion. Some of our
historians have unfairly assumed that his outlawry was at
Harold's instigation. Of this there is not only no proof, but
one of the best authorities among the chroniclers says just the
contrary — that Harold did all he could to intercede for him ;
and it is certain that he was fairly tried and condemned by
the Witan, and afterwards restored by the concurrent articles
of agreement between Harold and Leofric. Harold's policy
with his own countrymen stands out very markedly prominent
in the annals of the time ; it was invariably that of conciliation.

HAROLD 235

"Oh, yes, these are stale tidings; I heard thus
much from a palmer — and then Algar got ships from
the Irish, sailed to North Wales, and beat Rolf, the
Norman Earl, at Hereford. Oh, yes, I heard that,
and," added the Kent man, laughing, " I was not sorry
to hear that my old Earl Algar, since he is a good and
true Saxon, beat the cowardly Norman, — more shame
to the King for giving a Norman the ward of the
Marches! "

" It was a sore defeat to the King and to England,"
said Godrith, gravely. " The great Minster of Here-
ford built by King Athelstan was burned and sacked
by the Welch; and the crown itself was in danger,
when Harold came up at the head of the Fyrd. Hard
is it to tell the distress and the marching and the
camping, and the travail, and destruction of men, and
also of horses, which the English endured * till Harold
came; and then luckily came also the good old Leof-
ric, and Bishop Aired the peacemaker, and so strife
was patched up — Gryffyth swore oaths of faith to
King Edward, and Algar was inlawed; and there for
the nonce rests the matter now. But well I ween that
Gryffyth will never keep troth with the English, and
that no hand less strong than Harold's can keep in
check a spirit as fiery as Algar's: therefore did I wish
that Harold might be King."

" Well," quoth the honest Kent man, " I hope,
nevertheless, that Algar will sow his wild oats, and
leave the Walloons to grow the hemp for their own
halters; for, though he is not of the height of our Har-
old, he is a true Saxon, and we liked him well enow
when he ruled us. And how is our Earl's brother
Tostig esteemed by the Northmen? It must be hard
1 Saxon Chron., verbatim.

236 HAROLD

to please those who had Siward of the strong arm for
their Earl before.'''

" Why, at first, when (at Siward's death in the wars
for young Malcolm) Harold secured to Tostig the
Northumbrian earldom, Tostig went by his brother's
counsel, and ruled well and won favour. Of late I
hear that the Northmen murmur. Tostig is a man
indeed dour and haughty."

After a few more questions and answers on the news
of the day, Vebba rose and said :

" Thanks for thy good fellowship; it is time for me
now to be jogging homeward. I left my ceorls and
horses Qn the other side the river, and must go after
them. And now forgive me my bluntness, fellow-
thegn, but ye young courtiers have plenty of need for
your mancuses, and when a plain countryman like me
comes sight-seeing, he ought to stand payment ; where-
fore," here he took from his belt a great leathern purse,
" wherefore, as these outlandish birds and heathenish
puddings must be dear fare — "

"How!" said Godrith, reddening, " thinkest thou
so meanly of us thegns of Middlesex as to deem we
cannot entertain thus humbly a friend from a distance?
Ye Kent men I know are rich. But keep your pen-
nies to buy stuffs for your wife, my friend."

The Kent man, seeing he had displeased his com-
panion, did not press his liberal offer, — put up his
purse, and suffered Godrith to pay the reckoning.
Then, as the two thegns shook hands, he said:

" But I should like to have said a kind word or so
to Earl Harold — for he was too busy and too great
for me to come across him in the old palace yonder.
I have a mind to go back and look for him at his own
house."

HAROLD 237

" You will not find him there," said Godrith, " for I
know that as soon as he hath finished his conference
with the Atheling, he will leave the city; and I shall
be at his own favourite manse over the water at sun-
set, to take orders for repairing the forts and dykes
on the Marches. You can tarry awhile and meet us;
you know his old lodge in the forest land?"

" Nay, I must be back and at home ere night, for all
things go wrong when the master is away. Yet, in-
deed, my good wife will scold me for not having
shaken hands with the handsome Earl."

" Thou shalt not come under that sad infliction,"
said the good-natured Godrith, who was pleased with
the thegn's devotion to Harold, and who, knowing the
great weight which Vebba (homely as he seemed) car-
ried in his important county, was politically anxious
that the Earl should humour so sturdy a friend, —
" Thou shalt not sour thy wife's kiss, man. For look
you, as you ride back you will pass by a large old
house, with broken columns at the back."

" I have marked it well," said the thegn, " when I
have gone that way, with a heap of queer stones, on a
little hillock, which they say the witches or the Brit-
ons heaped together."

" The same. When Harold leaves London, I trow
well towards that house will his road wend; for there
lives Edith the swan's-neck, with her awful grandam
the Wicca. If thou art there a little after noon, de-
pend on it thou wilt see Harold riding that way."

" Thank thee heartily, friend Godrith," said Vebba,
taking his leave, " and forgive my bluntness if I
laughed at thy cropped head, for I see thou art as
good a Saxon as e'er a franklin of Kent — and so the
saints keep thee."

238 HAROLD

Vebba then strode briskly over the bridge; and
Godrith, animated by the wine he had drunk, turned
gaily on his heel to look amongst the crowded tables
for some chance friend with whom to while away a
hour or so at the games of hazard then in vogue.

Scarce had he turned, when the two listeners, who,
having paid their reckoning, had moved under shade
of one of the arcades, dropped into a boat which they
had summoned to the margin by a noiseless signal,
and were rowed over the water. They preserved a
silence which seemed thoughtful and gloomy until
they reached the opposite shore; then one of them,
pushing back his bonnet, showed the sharp and
haughty features of Algar.

" Well, friend of Gryffyth," said he, with a bitter ac-
cent, " thou hearest that Earl Harold counts so little
on the oaths of thy King, that he intends to fortify
the Marches against him; and thou hearest also, that
nought save a life, as fragile as the reed which thy
feet are trampling, stands between the throne of Eng-
land and the only Englishman who could ever have
humbled my son-in-law to swear oath of service to
Edward."

" Shame upon that hour," said the other, whose
speech, as well as the gold collar round his neck, and
the peculiar fashion of his hair, betokened him to be
Welch. " Little did I think that the great son of
Llewellyn, whom our bards had set above Roderic
Mawr, would ever have acknowledged the sovereignty
of the Saxon over the hills of Cymry."

" Tut, Meredydd," answered Algar, " thou knowest
well that no Cymrian ever deems himself dishonoured
by breaking faith with the Saxon; and we shall yet see
the lions of Gryffyth scaring the sheepfolds of Here-
ford."

HAROLD 239

" So be it," said Meredydd, fiercely. " And Harold
shall give to his Atheling the Saxon land, shorn at
least of the Cymrian kingdom."

" Meredydd," said Algar, with a seriousness that
seemed almost solemn, " no Atheling will live to rule
these realms! Thou knowest that I was one of the
first to hail the news of his coming — I hastened to
Dover to meet him. Methought I saw death writ on
his countenance, and I bribed the German leach who
attends him to answer my questions; the Atheling
knows it not, but he bears within him the seeds of a
mortal complaint. Thou wottest well what cause I
have to hate Earl Harold; and were I the only man
to oppose his way to the throne, he should not ascend
it but over my corpse. But when Godrith, his creat-
ure, spoke, I felt that he spoke the truth; and, the
Atheling dead, on no head but Harold's can fall
the crown of Edward."

"Ha!" said the Cymrian chief, gloomily; " think-
est thou so indeed?"

"I think it not; I know it. And for that reason,
Meredydd, we must wait not till he wields against us
all the royalty of England. As yet, while Edward
lives, there is hope. For the King loves to spend
wealth on relics and priests, and is slow when the
mancuscs are wanted for fighting men. The King too,
poor man! is not so ill-pleased at my outbursts as he
would fain have it thought; he thinks, by pitting earl
against earl, that he himself is the stronger.1 While
Edward lives, therefore, Harold's arm is half crippled;
wherefore, Meredydd, ride thou, with good speed,
back to King Gryffyth, and tell him all that I have told
thee. Tell him that our time to strike the blow and
1 Hume.

240 HAROLD

renew the war will be amidst the dismay and confusion
that the Atheling's death will occasion. Tell him, that
if we can entangle Harold himself in the Welch de-
files, it will go hard but what we shall find some arrow
or dagger to pierce the heart of the invader. And
were Harold but slain — who then would be king in
England? The line of Cerdic gone — the House of
Godwin lost in Earl Harold, (for Tostig is hated in his
own domain, Leofwine is too light, and Gurth is too
saintly for such ambition) — who then, I say, can be
king in England but Algar, the heir of the great Leof-
ric? And I, as King of England, will set all Cymry
free, and restore to the realm of Gryffyth the shires
of Hereford and Worcester. Ride fast, O Meredydd,
and heed well all I have said."

" Dost thou promise and swear, that wert thou king
of England, Cymry should be free from all service?"

"Free as air, free as under Arthur and Uther: I
swear it. And remember well how Harold addressed
the Cymrian chiefs, when he accepted Gryffyth's oaths
of service."

" Remember it — ay," cried Meredydd, his face light-
ing up with intense ire and revenge; " the stern Saxon
said, ' Heed well, ye chiefs of Cymry, and thou Gryf-
fyth the King, that if again ye force, by ravage and
rapine, by sacrilege and murther, the majesty of Eng-
land to enter your borders, duty must be done: God
grant that your Cymrian lion may leave us in peace
— if not, it is mercy to human life that bids us cut the
talons, and draw the fangs.' "

" Harold, like all calm and mild men, ever says less
than he means," returned Algar; "and were Harold
king, small pretext would he need for cutting the tal-
ons and drawing the fangs."

HAROLD 241

" It is well," said Meredydd, with a fierce smile.
" I will now go to my men who are lodged yonder;
and it is better that thou shouldst not be seen with
me."

" Right; so St. David be with you — and forget not
a word of my message to Gryffyth my son-in-law."

" Not a word," returned Meredydd, as with a wave
of his hand he moved towards an hostelry, to which,
as kept by one of their own countrymen, the Welch
habitually resorted in the visits to the capital which the
various intrigues and dissensions in their unhappy land
made frequent.

The chief's train, which consisted of ten men, all of
high birth, were not drinking in the tavern — for sorry
customers to mine host were the abstemious Welch.
Stretched on the grass under the trees of an orchard
that backed the hostelry, and utterly indifferent to all
the rejoicings that animated the population of South-
wark and London, they were listening to a wild song
of the old hero-days from one of their number; and
round them grazed the rough shagged ponies which
they had used for their journey. Meredydd, approach-
ing, gazed round, and seeing no stranger was present,
raised his hand to hush the song, and then addressed
his countrymen briefly in Welsh — briefly, but with a
passion that was evident in his flashing eyes and vehe-
ment gestures. The passion was contagious; they all
sprang to their feet with a low but fierce cry, and in
a few moments they had caught and saddled their di-
minutive palfreys, while one of the band, who seemed
singled out by Meredydd, sallied forth alone from the
orchard, and took his way, on foot, to the bridge. He
did not tarry there long; at the sight of a single horse-
man, whom a shout of welcome, on that swarming
VOL. I.— 16

242 HAROLD

thoroughfare, proclaimed to be Earl Harold, the
Welchman turned, and with a fleet foot regained his
companions.

Meanwhile Harold, smilingly, returned the greet-
ings he received, cleared the bridge, passed the sub-
urbs, and soon gained the wild forest land that
lay along the great Kentish-road. He rode somewhat
slowly, for he was evidently in deep thought; and he
had arrived about half-way towards Hilda's house
when he heard behind quick pattering sounds, as of
small unshod hoofs: he turned, and saw the Welchmen
at the distance of some fifty yards. But at that mo-
ment there passed, along the road in front, several
persons bustling into London to share in the festivi-
ties of the day. This seemed to disconcert the Welch
in the rear, and, after a few whispered words, they
left the high road and entered the forest land. Vari-
ous groups from time to time continued to pass along
the thoroughfare. But still, ever through the glades,
Harold caught glimpses of the riders; now distant,
now near. Sometimes he heard the snort of their
small horses, and saw a fierce eye glaring through the
bushes; then, as at the sight or sound of approaching
passengers, the riders wheeled, and shot off through
the brakes.

The Earl's suspicions were aroused; for (though he
knew of no enemy to apprehend, and the extreme
severity of the laws against robbers made the high
roads much safer in the latter days of the Saxon domi-
nation than they were for centuries under that of the
subsequent dynasty, when Saxon thegns themselves
had turned kings of the greenwood,) the various in-
surrections in Edward's reign had necessarily thrown
upon society many turbulent disbanded mercenaries.

HAROLD 243

Harold was unarmed, save the spear which, even
on occasions of state, the Saxon noble rarely laid aside,
and the ateghar in his belt; and, seeing now that the
road had become deserted, he set spurs to his horse,
and was just in sight of the Druid temple, when a
javelin whizzed close by his breast, and another trans-
fixed his horse, which fell head foremost to the
ground.

The Earl gained his feet in an instant, and that
haste was needed to save his life ; for while he rose ten
swords flashed around him. The Welchmen had
sprung from their palfreys as Harold's horse fell. For-
tunately for him, only two of the party bore javelins,
(a weapon which the Welch wielded with deadly skill,)
and, those already wasted, they drew their short
swords, which were probably imitated from the Ro-
mans, and rushed upon him in simultaneous onset.
Versed in all the weapons of the time, with his right
hand seeking by his spear to keep off the rush, with
the ateghar in his left parrying the strokes aimed at
him, the brave Earl transfixed the first assailant, and
sore wounded the next; but his tunic was dyed red
with three gashes, and his sole chance of life was in
the power yet left him to force his way through the
ring. Dropping his spear, shifting his ateghar into
the right hand, wrapping round his left arm his gonna
as a shield, he sprang fiercely on the onslaught, and on
the flashing swords. Pierced to the heart fell one of
his foes — dashed to the earth another — from the hand
of a third (dropping his own ateghar) he wrenched
the sword. Loud rose Harold's cry for aid, and
swiftly he strode towards the hillock, turning back,
and striking as he turned; and again fell a foe, and
again new blood oozed through his own garb. At

244 HAROLD

that moment his cry was echoed by a shriek so sharp
and so piercing that it startled the assailants, it arrested
the assault; and, ere the unequal strife could be re-
sumed, a woman was in the midst of the fray ; a woman
stood dauntless between the Earl and his foes.

" Back! Edith. Oh, God! Back, back! " cried the
Earl, recovering all his strength in the sole fear which
that strife had yet stricken into his bold heart; and
drawing Edith aside with his strong arm, he again
confronted the assailants.

"Die!" cried, in the Cymrian tongue, the fiercest
of the foes, whose sword had already twice drawn the
Earl's blood; "Die, that Cymry may be free!"

Meredydd sprang, with him sprang the survivors of
his band; and, by a sudden movement, Edith had
thrown herself on Harold's breast, leaving his right
arm free, but sheltering his form with her own.

At that sight every sword rested still in air. These
Cymrians, hesitating not at the murder of the man
whose death seemed to their false virtue a sacrifice
due to their hopes of freedom, were still the descend-
ants of Heroes, and the children of noble Song, and
their swords were harmless against a woman. The
same pause which saved the life of Harold, saved that
of Meredydd; for the Cymrian's lifted sword had left
his breast defenceless, and Harold, despite his wrath,
and his fears for Edith, touched by that sudden for-
bearance, forbore himself the blow.

"Why seek ye my life?" said he. "Whom in
broad England hath Harold wronged?"

That speech broke the charm, revived the suspense
of vengeance. With a sudden aim, Meredydd smote
at the head which Edith's embrace left unprotected.
The sword shivered on the steel of that which parried

A woman stood dauntless between the Earl and his foes.

"ri*

HAROLD 245

the stroke, and the next moment, pierced to the heart,
Meredydd fell to the earth, bathed in his gore. Even
as he fell, aid was at hand. The ceorls in the Roman
house had caught the alarm, and were hurrying down
the knoll, with arms snatched in haste, while a loud
whoop broke from the forest land hard by ; and a troop
of horse, headed by Vebba, rushed through the bushes
and brakes. Those of the Welch still surviving, no
longer animated by their fiery chief, turned on the
instant, and fled with that wonderful speed of foot
which characterised their active race ; calling, as they
fled, to their Welch pigmy steeds, which, snorting
loud, and lashing out, came at once to the call. Seiz-
ing the nearest at hand, the fugitives sprang to selle,
while the animals unchosen paused by the corpses of
their former riders, neighing piteously, and shaking
their long manes. And then, after wheeling round
and round the coming horsemen, with many a plunge,
and lash, and savage cry, they darted after their com-
panions, and disappeared amongst the bushwood.
Some of the Kentish men gave chase to the fugitives,
but in vain; for the nature of the ground favoured
flight. Vebba, and the rest, now joined by Hilda's
lithsmen, gained the spot where Harold, bleeding fast,
yet strove to keep his footing, and, forgetful of his own
wounds, was joyfully assuring himself of Edith's safety.
Vebba dismounted, and recognising the Earl, ex-
claimed:

"Saints in heaven! are we in time? You bleed —
you faint! — Speak, Lord Harold. How fares it?"

" Blood enow yet left here for our merrie Eng-
land! " said Harold, with a smile. . But as he spoke,
his head drooped, and he was borne senseless into the
house of Hilda.

246 HAROLD

CHAPTER II

The Vala met them at the threshold, and testified
so little surprise at the sight of the bleeding and un-
conscious Earl, that Vebba, who had heard strange
tales of Hilda's unlawful arts, half-suspected that those
wild-looking foes, with their uncanny, diminutive
horses, were imps conjured by her to punish a wooer
to her grandchild — who had been perhaps too suc-
cessful in the wooing. And fears so reasonable were
not a little increased when Hilda, after leading the
way up the steep ladder to the chamber in which Har-
old had dreamed his fearful dream, bade them all de-
part, and leave the wounded man to her care.

" Not so," said Vebba, bluffly. " A life like this is
not to be left in the hands of woman, or wicca. I
shall go back to the great town, and summon the
Earl's own leach. And I beg thee to heed, meanwhile,
that every head in this house shall answer for Har-
old's."

The great Vala, and highborn Hleafdian, little ac-
customed to be accosted thus, turned round abruptly,
with so stern an eye and so imperious a mien, that
even the stout Kent man felt abashed. She pointed
to the door opening on the ladder, and said, briefly:

"Depart! Thy lord's life hath been saved already,
and by woman. Depart ! "

" Depart, and fear not for the Earl, brave and true
friend in need," said Edith, looking up from Harold's
pale lips, over which she bent; and her sweet voice so
touched the good thegn, that, murmuring a blessing
on her fair face, he turned and departed.

Hilda then proceeded, with a light and skilful hand,

HAROLD 247

to examine the wounds of her patient. She opened
the tunic, and washed away the blood from four gap-
ing orifices on the breast and shoulders. And as she
did so, Edith uttered a faint cry, and falling on her
knees, bowed her head over the drooping hand, and
kissed it with stifling emotions, of which perhaps grate-
ful joy was the strongest; for over the heart of Harold
was punctured, after the fashion of the Saxons, a de-
vice— and that device was the knot of betrothal, and
in the centre of the knot was graven the word
" Edith."

CHAPTER III

Whether owing to Hilda's runes, or to the merely
human arts which accompanied them, the Earl's re-
covery was rapid, though the great loss of blood he
had sustained left him awhile weak and exhausted.
But, perhaps, he blessed the excuse which detained
him still in the house of Hilda, and under the eyes of
Edith.

He dismissed the leach sent to him by Vebba, and
confided, not without reason, to the Vala's skill. And
how happily went his hours beneath the old Roman
roof!

It was not without a superstition, more character-
ised, however, by tenderness than awe, that Harold
learned that Edith had been undefinably impressed
with a foreboding of danger to her betrothed, and all
that morning she had watched his coming from the old
legendary hill. Was it not in that watch that his good
Fylgia had saved his life?

Indeed, there seemed a strange truth in Hilda's as-
sertions, that in the form of his betrothed, his tutelary

248 HAROLD

spirit lived and guarded. For smooth every step, and
bright every day, in his career, since their troth had
been plighted. And gradually the sweet superstition
had mingled with Human passion to hallow and refine
it. There was a purity and a depth in the love of
these two, which, if not uncommon in women, is most
rare in men.

Harold, in sober truth, had learned to look on Edith
as on his better angel; and, calming his strong manly
heart in the hour of temptation, would have recoiled,
as a sacrilege, from aught that could have sullied that
image of celestial love. With a noble and sublime
patience, of which perhaps only a character so thor-
oughly English in its habits of self-control and stead-
fast endurance could have been capable, he saw the
months and the years glide away, and still contented
himself with hope; — hope, the sole godlike joy that
belongs to men!

As the opinion of an age influences even those who
affect to despise it, so, perhaps, this holy and unselfish
passion was preserved and guarded by that peculiar
veneration for purity which formed the characteristic
fanaticism of the last days of the Anglo-Saxons, —
when still, as Aldhelm had previously sung in Latin
less barbarous than perhaps any priest in the reign of
Edward could command:

" Virginitas castam servans sine crimine camera
Caetera virtutem vincit praeconia laudi —
Spiritus altithroni templum sibi vindicat almus ; " 1

1 " The chaste who blameless keep unsullied fame,
Transcend all other worth, all other praise.
The Spirit, high enthroned, has made their hearts
His sacred temple."

SHARON TURNER'S Translation of Aldhelm, vol. iii. p. 366. It
is curious to see how, even in Latin, the poet preserves the
'alliterations that characterised the Saxon muse.

HAROLD 249

when, amidst a great dissoluteness of manners, alike
common to Church and laity, the opposite virtues were,
as is invariable in such epochs of society, carried by
the few purer natures into heroic extremes. " And
as gold, the adorner of the world, springs from the sor-
did bosom of earth, so chastity, the image of gold,
rose bright and unsullied from the clay of human de-
sire." 1

And Edith, though yet in the tenderest flush of
beautiful youth, had, under the influence of that sanc-
tifying and scarce earthly affection, perfected her full
nature as woman. She had learned so to live in Har-
old's life, that — less, it seemed, by study than intuition
— a knowledge graver than that which belonged to her
sex and her time, seemed to fall upon her soul — fall
as the sunlight falls on the blossoms, expanding their
petals, and brightening the glory of their hues.

Hitherto, living under the shade of Hilda's dreary
creed, Edith, as we have seen, had been rather Chris-
tian by name and instinct than acquainted with the
doctrines of the Gospel, or penetrated by its faith.
But the soul of Harold lifted her own out of the Valley
of the Shadow up to the Heavenly Hill. For the
character of their love was so pre-eminently Christian,
so, by the circumstances that surrounded it — so by
hope and self-denial, elevated out of the empire, not
only of the senses, but even of that sentiment which
springs from them, and which made the sole refined
and poetic element of the heathen's love, that but for
Christianity it would have withered and died. It re-
quired all the aliment of prayer; it needed that patient
endurance which comes from the soul's consciousness
of immortality; it could not have resisted earth, but
1 Slightly altered from Aldhelm.

2$o HAROLD

from the forts and armies it won from heaven. Thus
from Harold might Edith be said to have taken her
very soul. And with the soul, and through the soul,
woke the mind from the mists of childhood.

In the intense desire to be worthy the love of the
foremost man of her land; to be the companion of his
mind, as well as the mistress of his heart, she had
acquired, she knew not how, strange stores of thought,
and intelligence, and pure, gentle wisdom. In open-
ing to her confidence his own high aims and projects,
he himself was scarcely conscious how often he con-
fided but to consult — how -often and how insensibly
she coloured his reflections and shaped his designs.
Whatever was highest and purest, that, Edith ever,
as by instinct, beheld as the wisest. She grew to him
like a second conscience, diviner than his own. Each,
therefore, reflected virtue on the other, as planet illu-
mines planet.

All these years of probation then, which might have
soured a love less holy, changed into weariness a love
less intense, had only served to wed them more in-
timately soul to soul; and in that spotless union what
happiness there was! what rapture in word and glance,
and the slight, restrained caress of innocence, beyond
all the transports love only human can bestow!

CHAPTER IV

It was a bright still summer noon, when Harold
sate with Edith amidst the columns of the Druid tem-
ple, and in the shade which those vast and mournful
relics of a faith departed cast along the sward. And
there, conversing over the past, and planning the

HAROLD 251

future, they had sate long, when Hilda approached
from the house, and entering the circle, leant her arm
upon the altar of the war-god, and gazing on Harold
with a calm triumph in her aspect, said:

" Did I not smile, son of Godwin, when, with thy
short-sighted wisdom, thou didst think to guard thy
land and secure thy love, by urging the monk-king to
send over the seas for the Atheling? Did I not tell
thee, ' Thou dost right, for in obeying thy judgment
thou art but the instrument of fate; and the coming of
the Atheling shall speed thee nearer to the ends of thy
life, but not from the Atheling shalt thou take the
crown of thy love, and not by the Atheling shall the
throne of Athelstan be filled'?"

" Alas," said Harold, rising in agitation, " let me not
hear of mischance to that noble prince. He seemed
sick and feeble when I parted from him; but joy is a
great restorer, and the air of the native land gives
quick health to the exile."

" Hark! " said Hilda, " you hear the passing bell for
the soul of the son of Ironsides! "

The mournful knell, as she spoke, came dull from
the roofs of the city afar, borne to their ears by the
exceeding stillness of the atmosphere. Edith crossed
herself, and murmured a prayer according to the cus-
tom of the age; then raising her eyes to Harold, she
murmured, as she clasped her hands:

" Be not saddened, Harold; hope still."

"Hope!" repeated Hilda, rising proudly from her
recumbent position, " Hope! in that knell from St.
Paul's, dull indeed is thine ear, O Harold, if thou
hearest not the joy-bells that inaugurate a future
king!"

The Earl started; his eyes shot fire; his breast
heaved.

2$2 HAROLD

"Leave us, Edith," said Hilda, in a low voice; and
after watching her grandchild's slow reluctant steps
descend the knoll, she turned to Harold, and leading
him towards the gravestone of the Saxon chief, said:
" Rememberest thou the spectre that rose from this
mound? — rememberest thou the dream that followed
it?"

" The spectre, or deceit of mine eye, I remember
well," answered the Earl; "the dream, not; — or only
in confused and jarring fragments."

" I told thee then, that I could not unriddle the
dream by the light of the moment; and that the dead
who slept below never appeared to men, save for
some portent of doom to the house of Cerdic. The
portent is fulfilled ; the Heir of Cerdic is no more. To
whom appeared the great Scin-laeca, but to him who
shall lead a new race of kings to* the Saxon throne ! "

Harold breathed hard, and the colour mounted
bright and glowing to his cheek and brow.

" I cannot gainsay thee, Vala. Unless, despite all
conjecture, Edward should be spared to earth till the
Atheling's infant son acquires the age when bearded
men will acknowledge a chief,1 I look round in Eng-

1 It is impossible to form any just view of the state of parties,
and the position of Harold in the later portions of this work,
unless the reader will bear constantly in mind the fact that,
from the earliest period, minors were set aside as a matter of
course, by the Saxon customs. Henry observes that, in the
whole history of the Heptarchy, there is but one example of
a minority, and that a short and unfortunate one; so, in the
later times, the great Alfred takes the throne, to the exclusion
of the infant son of his elder brother. Only under very pe-
culiar circumstances, backed, as in the case of Edmund Iron-
sides, by precocious talents and manhood on the part of the
minor, were there exceptions to the general laws of succes-
sion. The same rule obtained with the earldoms ; the fame,
power, and popularity of Siward could not transmit his Nor-
thumbrian earldom to his infant son Waltheof, so gloomily re-
nowned in a subsequent reign.

HAROLD 253

land for the coming king, and all England reflects but
mine own image."

His head rose erect as he spoke, and already the
brow seemed august, as if circled by the diadem of the
Basileus.

" And if it be so," he added, " I accept that solemn
trust, and England shall grow greater in my great-
ness."

" The flame breaks at last from the smouldering
fuel! " cried the Vala, " and the hour I so long foretold
to thee hath come! "

Harold answered not, for high and kindling emo-
tions deafened him to all but the voice of a grand am-
bition, and the awakening joy of a noble heart.

" And then — and then," he exclaimed, " I shall need
no mediator between nature and monkcraft; — then,
O Edith, the life thou hast saved will indeed be thine! "
He paused, and it was a sign of the change that an am-
bition long repressed, but now rushing into the vent
legitimately open to it, had already begun to work in
the character hitherto so self-reliant, when he said in
a low voice, " But that dream which hath so long lain
locked, not lost, in my mind; that dream of which I
recall only vague remembrances of danger yet de-
fiance, trouble yet triumph, — canst thou unriddle it,
O Vala, into auguries of success?"

" Harold," answered Hilda, " thou didst hear at the
close of thy dream, the music of the hymns that are
chaunted at the crowning of a king, — and a crowned
king shalt thou be; yet fearful foes shall assail thee
.—foreshown in the shapes of a lion and raven, that
came in menace over the blood-red sea. The two
stars in the heaven betoken that the day of thy birth
was also the birthday of a foe, whose star is fatal to

254 HAROLD

thine; and they warn thee against a battle-field, fought
on the day when those stars shall meet. Farther than
this the mystery of thy dream escapes from my lore;
— wouldst thou learn thyself, from the phantom that
sent the dream ; — stand by my side at the grave of the
Saxon hero, and I will summon the Scin-laeca to coun-
sel the living. For what to the Vala the dead may
deny, the soul of the brave on the brave may bestow ! "

Harold listened with a serious and musing attention
which his pride or his reason had never before ac-
corded to the warnings of Hilda. But his sense was
not yet fascinated by the voice of the charmer, and
he answered with his wonted smile, so sweet yet so
haughty :

" A hand outstretched to a crown should be armed
for the foe; and the eye that would guard the living
should not be dimmed by the vapours that encircle
the dead."

CHAPTER V

But from that date changes, slight, yet noticeable
and important, were at work both in the conduct and
character of the great Earl.

Hitherto he had advanced on his career without cal-
culation; and nature, not policy, had achieved his
power. But henceforth he began thoughtfully to
cement the foundations of his House, to extend the
area, to strengthen the props. Policy now mingled
with the justice that had made him esteemed, and the
generosity that had won him love. Before, though
by temper conciliatory, yet, through honesty, indiffer-
ent to the enmities he provoked, in his adherence to
what his conscience approved, he now laid himself

HAROLD 255

out to propitiate all ancient feuds, soothe all jealousies,
and convert foes into friends. He opened constant
and friendly communication with his uncle Sweyn,
King of Denmark; he availed himself sedulously of
all the influence over the Anglo-Danes which his
mother's birth made so facile. He strove also, and
wisely, to conciliate the animosities which the Church
had cherished against Godwin's house: he concealed
his disdain of the monks and monkridden: he showed
himself the Church's patron and friend; he endowed
largely the convents, and especially one at Waltham,
which had fallen into decay, though favourably known
for the piety of its brotherhood. But if in this he
played a part not natural to his opinions, Harold could
not, even in simulation, administer to evil. The mon-
asteries he favoured were those distinguished for pur-
ity of life, for benevolence to the poor, for bold denun-
ciation of the excesses of the great. He had not, like
the Norman, the grand design of creating in the priest-
hood a college of learning, a school of arts; such no-
tions were unfamiliar in homely, unlettered England.
And Harold, though for his time and his land no
mean scholar, would have recoiled from favouring a
learning always made subservient to Rome; always
at once haughty and scheming, and aspiring to com-
plete domination over both the souls of men and the
thrones of kings. But his aim was, out of the ele-
ments he found in the natural kindliness existing be-
tween Saxon priest and Saxon flock, to rear a modest,
virtuous, homely clergy, not above tender sympathy
with an ignorant population. He selected as exam-
ples for his monastery at Waltham, two low-born
humble brothers, Osgood and Ailred; the one known
for the courage with which he had gone through the

256 HAROLD

land, preaching to abbot and thegn the emancipation
of the theowes, as the most meritorious act the safety
of the soul could impose; the other, who, originally a
clerk, had, according to the common custom of the
Saxon clergy, contracted the bonds of marriage, and
with some eloquence had vindicated that custom
against the canons of Rome, and refused the offer of
large endowments and thegn's rank to put away his
wife. But on the death of that spouse he had adopted
the cowl, and while still persisting in the lawfulness of
marriage to the unmonastic clerks, had become fa-
mous for denouncing the open concubinage which
desecrated the holy office, and violated the solemn
vows, of many a proud prelate and abbot.

To these two men (both of whom refused the abbacy
of Waltham) Harold committed the charge of select-
ing the new brotherhood established there. And the
monks of Waltham were honoured as saints through-
out the neighbouring district, and cited as examples
to all the Church.

But though in themselves the new politic arts of
Harold seemed blameless enough, arts they were, and
as such they corrupted the genuine simplicity of his
earlier nature. He had conceived for the first time
an ambition apart from that of service to his country.
It was no longer only to serve the land, it was to serve
it as its ruler, that animated his heart and coloured
his thoughts. Expediencies began to dim to his con-
science the healthful loveliness of Truth. And now,
too, gradually, that empire which Hilda had gained
over his brother Sweyn began to sway this man, here-
tofore so strong in his sturdy sense. The future be-
came to him a dazzling mystery, into which his con-
jectures plunged themselves more and more. He had

HAROLD 257

not yet stood in the Runic circle and invoked the
dead; but the spells were around his heart, and in his
own soul had grown up the familiar demon.

Still Edith reigned alone, if not in his thoughts at
least in his affections; and perhaps it was the hope of
conquering all obstacles to his marriage that mainly
induced him to propitiate the Church, through whose
agency the object he sought must be attained; and
still that hope gave the brightest lustre to the distant
crown. But he who admits Ambition to the com-
panionship of Love, admits a giant that outstrides the
gentler footsteps of its comrade.

Harold's brow lost its benign calm. He became
thoughtful and abstracted. He consulted Edith less,
Hilda more. Edith seemed to him now not wise
enough to counsel. The smile of his Fylgia, like the
light of the star upon a stream, lit the surface, but
could not pierce to the deep.

Meanwhile, however, the policy of Harold throve
and prospered. He had already arrived at that height,
that the least effort to make power popular redoubled
its extent. Gradually all voices swelled the chorus in
his praise; gradually men became familiar to the ques-
tion, " If Edward dies before Edgar, the grandson of
Ironsides, is of age to succeed, where can we find a
king like Harold? "

In the midst of this quiet but deepening sunshine
of his fate, there burst a storm, which seemed destined
either to darken his day or to disperse every cloud
from the horizon. Algar, the only possible rival to
his power — the only opponent no arts could soften —
Algar, whose hereditary name endeared him to the
Saxon laity, whose father's most powerful legacy was
the love of the Saxon Church, whose martial and tur-
VOL. I.— 17

258 HAROLD

bulent spirit had only the more elevated him in the
esteem of the warlike Danes in East Anglia (the earl-
dom in which he had succeeded Harold), by his fa-
ther's death, lord of the great principality of Mercia
— availed himself of that new power to break out again
into rebellion. Again he was outlawed, again he
leagued with the fiery Gryffyth. All Wales was in
revolt; the Marches were invaded and laid waste.
Rolf, the feeble Earl of Hereford, died at this critical
juncture, and the Normans and hirelings under him
mutinied against other leaders; a fleet of vikings from
Norway ravaged the western coasts, and sailing up the
Menai, joined the ships of Gryffyth, and the whole
empire seemed menaced with dissolution, when Ed-
ward issued his Herr-bann, and Harold at the head
of the royal armies marched on the foe.

Dread and dangerous were those defiles of Wales;
amidst them had been foiled or slaughtered all the
warriors under Rolf the Norman; no Saxon armies
had won laurels in the Cymrian's own mountain home
within the memory of man; nor had any Saxon ships
borne the palm from the terrible vikings of Norway.
Fail, Harold, and farewell the crown! — succeed, and
thou hast on thy side the ultimam rationem regum (the
last argument of kings), the heart of the army over
which thou art chief.

CHAPTER VI

It was one day in the height of summer that two
horsemen rode slowly, and conversing with each other
in friendly wise, notwithstanding an evident differ-
ence of rank and of nation, through the lovely country
which formed the Marches of Wales The younger

HAROLD 259

of these men was unmistakably a Norman; his cap
only partially covered the head, which was shaven
from the crown to the nape of the neck,1 while in front
the hair, closely cropped, curled short and thick round
a haughty but intelligent brow. His dress fitted close
to his shape, and was worn without mantle; his leg-
gings were curiously crossed in the fashion of a tartan,
and on his heels were spurs of gold. He was wholly
unarmed; but behind him and his companion, at a little
distance, his war-horse, completely caparisoned, was
led by a single squire, mounted on a good Norman
steed; while six Saxon theowes, themselves on foot,
conducted three sumpter-mules, somewhat heavily
laden, not only with the armour of the Norman knight,
but panniers containing rich robes, wines, and proven-
der. At a few paces farther behind, marched a troop,
light-armed, in tough hides, curiously tanned, with
axes swung over their shoulders, and bows in their
hands.

The companion of the knight was as evidently a
Saxon, as the knight was unequivocally a Norman.
His square short features, contrasting the oval visage
and aqutline profile of his close-shaven comrade, were
half concealed beneath a bushy beard and immense
moustache. His tunic, also, was of hide, and, tight-
ened at the waist, fell loose to his knee; while a kind
of cloak, fastened to the right shoulder by a large
round button or brooch, flowed behind and in front,
but left both arms free. His cap differed in shape
from the Norman's, being round and full at the sides,
somewhat in shape like a turban. His bare, brawny
throat was curiously punctured with sundry devices,
and a verse from the Psalms.

1 Bayeux Tapestry.

260 HAROLD

His countenance, though without the high and
haughty brow, and the acute, observant eye of his
comrade, had a pride and intelligence of its own — a
pride somewhat sullen, and an intelligence somewhat
slow.

" My good friend, Sexwolf," quoth the Norman in
very tolerable Saxon, " I pray you not so to mis-
esteem us. After all, we Normans are of your own
race: our fathers spoke the same language as yours."

" That may be," said the Saxon, bluntly, " and so
did the Danes, with little difference, when they burned
our houses and cut our throats."

" Old tales, those," replied the knight, " and I
thank thee for the comparison; for the Danes, thou
seest, are now settled amongst ye, peaceful subjects
and quiet men, and in a few generations it will be hard
to guess who comes from Saxon, who from Dane."

" We waste time, talking such matters," returned
the Saxon, feeling himself instinctively no match in
argument for his lettered companion; and seeing, with
his native strong sense, that some ulterior object,
though he guessed not what, lay hid in the conciliatory
language of his companion; " nor do I believe, Master
Mallet or Gravel — forgive me if I miss of the right
forms to address you — that Norman will ever love
Saxon, or Saxon Norman; so let us cut our words
short. There stands the convent, at which you would
like to rest and refresh yourself."

The Saxon pointed to a low, clumsy building of
timber, forlorn and decayed, close by a rank marsh,
over which swarmed gnats, and all foul animalcules.

Mallet de Graville, for it was he, shrugged his shoul-
ders, and said, with an air of pity and contempt:

" I would, friend Sexwolf, that thou couldst but see

HAROLD 261

the houses we build to God and his saints in our Nor-
mandy; fabrics of stately stone, on the fairest sites.
Our Countess Matilda hath a notable taste for the
masonry; and our workmen are the brethren of Lom-
bardy, who know all the mysteries thereof."

" I pray thee, Dan-Norman," cried the Saxon, " not
to put such ideas into the soft head of King Edward.
We pay enow for the Church, though built but of tim-
ber; saints help us indeed, if it were builded of stone! "

The Norman crossed himself, as if he had heard
some signal impiety, and then said:

" Thou lovest not Mother Church, worthy Sex-
wolf? "

" I was brought up," replied the sturdy Saxon, " to
work and sweat hard, and I love not the lazy who
devour my substance, and say, ' the saints gave it
them.' Knowest thou not, Master Mallet, that one-
third of all the lands of England is in the hands of the
priests? "

" Hem! " said the acute Norman, who, with all his
devotion, could stoop to wring worldly advantage from
each admission of his comrade; "then in this merrie
England of thine thou hast still thy grievances and
cause of complaint?"

" Yea indeed, and I trow it," quoth the Saxon, even
in that day a grumbler; " but I take it, the main differ-
ence between thee and me is, that I can say what mis-
likes me out like a man ; and it would fare ill with thy
limbs or thy life if thou wert as frank in the grim land
of thy hcrctogh."

" Now, Notre Dame stop thy prating," said the Nor-
man, in high disdain, while his brow frowned and his
eye sparkled. " Strong judge and great captain as
is William the Norman, his barons and knights hold

262 HAROLD

their heads high in his presence, and not a grievance
weighs on the heart that we give not out with the
lip."

" So have I heard," said the Saxon, chuckling; " I
have heard, indeed, that ye thegns, or great men, are
free enow, and plainspoken. But what of the com-
mons— the sixhaendmen and the ceorls, master Nor-
man? Dare they speak as we speak of king and of
law, of thegn and of captain? "

The Norman wisely curbed the scornful " No, in-
deed," that rushed to his lips, and said, all sweet and
debonnair:

"Each land hath its customs, dear Sexwolf: and if
the Norman were king of England, he would take the
laws as he finds them, and the ceorls would be as safe
with William as Edward."

" The Norman king of England! " cried the Saxon,
reddening to the tips of his great ears, " what dost
thou babble of, stranger? The Norman! — How could
that ever be? "

" Nay, I did but suggest — but suppose such a case,"
replied the knight, still smothering his wrath. " And
why thinkest tho'u the conceit so outrageous? Thy
King is childless; William is his next of kin, and dear
to him as a brother; and if Edward did leave him the
throne — "

" The throne is for no man to leave," almost roared
the Saxon. " Thinkest thou the people of England
are like cattle and sheep, and chattels and theowes, to
be left by will, as man fancies? The King's wish has
its weight, no doubt, but the Witan hath its yea or its
nay, and the Witan and Commons are seldom at issue
thereon. Thy duke King of England! Marry! Ha!
ha!"

HAROLD 263

"Brute!" muttered the knight to himself; then
adding aloud, with his old tone of irony (now much
habitually subdued by years and discretion), " Why
takest thou so the part of the ceorls? thou a captain,
and well-nigh a thegn!"

" I was born a ceorl, and my father before me," re-
turned Sexwolf, "and I feel with my class;" though
my grandson may rank with the thegns, and, for aught
I know, with the earls."

The Sire de Graville involuntarily drew off from the
Saxon's side, as if made suddenly aware that he had
grossly demeaned himself in such unwitting familiar-
ity with a ceorl, and a ceorl's son ; and he said, with a
much more careless accent and lofty port than before:

" Good man, thou wert a ceorl, and now thou lead-
est Earl Harold's men to the war! How is this? I
do not quite comprehend it."

"How shouldst thou, poor Norman?" replied the
Saxon, compassionately. " The tale is soon told.
Know that when Harold our Earl was banished, and
his lands taken, we his ceorls helped with his six-
haendman, Clapa, to purchase his land, nigh by Lon-
don, and the house wherein thou didst find me, of a
stranger, thy countryman, to whom they were law-
lessly given. And we tilled the land, we tended the
herds, and we kept the house till the Earl came back."

" Ye had moneys then, moneys of your own, ye
ceorls!" said the Norman, avariciously.

" How else could we buy our freedom? Every
ceorl hath some hours to himself to employ to his
profit, and can lay by for his own ends. These sav-
ings we gave up for our Earl, and when the Earl came
back, he gave the sixhaendman hides of land enow to
make him a thegn; and he gave the ceorls who hade

264 HAROLD

holpen Clapa, their freedom and broad shares of his
hoc-land, and most of them now hold their own
ploughs and feed their own herds. But I loved the
Earl (having no wife) better than swine and glebe,
and I prayed him to let me serve him in arms. And
so I have risen, as with us ceorls can rise."

" I am answered," said Mallet de Graville, thought-
fully, and still somewhat perplexed. " But these
theowes, (they are slaves,) never rise. It cannot mat-
ter to them whether shaven Norman or bearded Saxon
sit on the throne? "

" Thou art right there," answered the Saxon ; " it
matters as little to them as it doth to thy thieves and
felons, for many of them are felons and thieves, or
the children of such; and most of those who are not,
it is said, are not Saxons, but the barbarous folks
whom the Saxons subdued. No, wretched things,
and scarce men, they care nought for the land. How-
beit, even they are not without hope, for the Church
takes their part; and that, at least, I for one think
Church-worthy," added the Saxon with a softened
eye. " And every abbot is bound to set free three
theowes on his lands, and few who own theowes die
without freeing some by their will; so that the sons of
theowes may be thegns, and thegns some of them are
at this day."

"Marvels!" cried the Norman. "But surely they
bear a stain and stigma, and their fellow-thegns flout
them?"

" Not a whit — why so? land is land, money money.
Little, I trow, care we what a man's father may have
been, if the man himself hath his ten hides or more
of good boc-land."

" Ye value land and the moneys," said the Norman,
" so do we, but we value more name and birth."

HAROLD 265

" Ye are still in your leading-strings, Norman," re-
plied the Saxon, waxing good-humoured in his con-
tempt. " We have an old saying and a wise one, ' All
come from Adam except Tib the ploughman: but
when Tib grows rich all call him " dear brother." '

" With such pestilent notions," quoth the Sire de
Graville, no longer keeping temper, " I do not wonder
that our fathers of Norway and Daneland beat ye so
easily. The love for things ancient— creed, lineage,
and name, is better steel against the stranger than
your smiths ever welded."

Therewith, and not waiting for Sexwolf's reply, he
clapped spurs to his palfrey, and soon entered the
courtyard of the convent.

A monk of the order of St. Benedict, then most in
favour,1 ushered the noble visitor into the cell of the
abbot; who, after gazing at him a moment in won-
der and delight, clasped him to his breast and kissed
him heartily on brow and cheek.

" Ah, Guillaume," he exclaimed in the Norman
tongue, " this is indeed a grace for which to sing
Jubilate. Thou canst not guess how welcome is the
face of a countryman in this horrible land of ill-cooking
and exile."

" Talking of grace, my dear father, and food," said
De Graville, loosening the cincture of the tight vest
which gave him the shape of a wasp — for even at that
early period, small waists were in vogue with the war-
like fops of the French Continent — " talking of grace,
the sooner thou say'st it over some friendly refection,
the more will the Latin sound unctuous and musical.
I have journeyed since daybreak, and am now hun-
gered and faint."

1 Indeed, apparently the only monastic order in England.

266 HAROLD

" Alack, alack ! " cried the abbot, plaintively, " thou
knowest little, my son, what hardships we endure in
these parts, how larded our larders, and how nefarious
our fare. The flesh of swine salted — "

" The flesh of Beelzebub," cried Mallet de Graville,
aghast. " But comfort thee, I have stores on my
sumpter-mules — ponlardes and fishes, and other not
despicable comestibles, and a few flasks of wine, not
pressed, laud the saints! from the vines of this coun-
try: wherefore, wilt thou see to it, and instruct thy
cooks how to season the cheer?"

"No cooks have I to trust to," replied the abbot;
"of cooking know they here as much as of Latin;
nathless, I will go and do my best with the stew-pans.
Meanwhile, thou wilt at least have rest and the bath.
For the Saxons, even in their convents, are a clean
race, and learned the bath from the Dane."

" That I have noted," said the knight, " for even at
the smallest house at which I lodged in my way from
London, the host hath courteously offered me the
bath, and the hostess linen curious and fragrant; and
to say truth, the poor people are hospitable and kind,
despite their uncouth hate of the foreigner; nor is
their meat to be despised, plentiful and succulent; but
pardex, as thou sayest, little helped by the art of dress-
ing. Wherefore, my father, I will while the time till
the poulardes be roasted, and the fish broiled or stewed,
by the ablutions thou profferest me. I shall tarry with
thee some hours, for I have much to learn."

The abbot then led the Sire de Graville by the hand
to the cell of honour and guestship, and having seen
that the bath prepared was of warmth sufficient, for
both Norman and Saxon (hardy men as they seem to
us from afar) so shuddered at the touch of cold water,

HAROLD 267

that a bath of natural temperature (as well as a hard
bed) was sometimes imposed as a penance, — the good
father went his way, to examine the sumpter-mules,
and admonish the much suffering and bewildered lay-
brother who officiated as cook, — and who, speaking
neither Norman nor Latin, scarce made out one word
in ten of his superior's elaborate exhortations.

Mallet's squire, with a change of raiment, and
goodly coffers of soaps, unguents, and odours, took his
way to the knight, for a Norman of birth was accus-
tomed to much personal attendance, and had all re-
spect for the body; and it was nearly an hour before,
in long gown of fur, reshaven, dainty, and decked, the
Sire de Graville bowed, and sighed, and prayed be-
fore the refection set out in the abbot's cell.

The two Normans, despite the sharp appetite -of the
layman, ate with great gravity and decorum, drawing
forth the morsels served to them on spits with silent
examination; seldom more than tasting, with looks
of patient dissatisfaction, each of the comestibles; sip-
ping rather than drinking, nibbling rather than de-
vouring, washing their fingers in rose water with nice
care at the close, and waving them afterwards grace-
fully in the air, to allow the moisture somewhat to
exhale before they wiped off the lingering dews with
their napkins. Then they exchanged looks and sighed
in concert, as if recalling the polished manners of Nor-
mandy, still retained in that desolate exile. And their
temperate meal thus concluded, dishes, wines, and at-
tendants vanished, and their talk commenced.

"How earnest thou in England?" asked the abbot
abruptly.

" Sauf your reverence," answered De Graville, " not
wholly for reason different from those that bring thee

268 HAROLD

hither. When, after the death of that truculent and
orgulous Godwin, King Edward entreated Harold to
let him have back some of his dear Norman favourites,
thou, then little pleased with the plain fare and sharp
discipline of the convent of Bee, didst pray Bishop
William of London to accompany such train as Har-
old, moved by his poor king's supplication, was pleased
to permit. The bishop consented, and thou wert en-
abled to change monk's cowl for abbot's mitre. In
a word, ambition brought thee to England, and am-
bition brings me hither."

"Hem! and how? Mayst thou thrive better than
I in this swine-sty! "

" You remember," renewed De Graville, " that Lan-
franc, the Lombard, was pleased to take interest in my
fortunes, then not the most flourishing, and after his
return from Rome, with the Pope's dispensation for
Count William's marriage with his cousin, he became
William's most trusted adviser. Both William and
Lanfranc were desirous to set an example of learning
to our Latinless nobles, and therefore my scholarship
found grace in their eyes. In brief — since then I have
prospered and thriven. I have fair lands by the Seine,
free from clutch of merchant and Jew. I have founded
a convent, and slain some hundreds of Breton maraud-
ers. Need I say that I am in high favour? Now it
so chanced that a cousin of mine, Hugo de Magnaville,
a brave lance and franc-rider, chanced to murder his
brother in a little domestic affray, and, being of con-
science tender and nice, the deed preyed on him, and
he gave his lands to Odo of Bayeux, and set off to
Jerusalem. There, having prayed at the tomb," (the
knight crossed himself,) " he felt at once miraculously
cheered and relieved; but, journeying back, mishaps

HAROLD 269

befell him. He was made slave by some infidel, to
one of whose wives he sought to be gallant, par
amours, and only escaped at last by setting fire to pay-
nim and prison. Now, by the aid of the Virgin, he
has got back to Rouen, and holds his own land again
in fief from proud Odo, as a knight of the bishop's.
It so happened that, passing homeward through Lycia,
before these misfortunes befell him, he made friends
with a fellow-pilgrim who had just returned, like him-
self, from the Sepulchre, but not lightened, like him,
of the load of his crime. This poor palmer lay broken-
hearted and dying in the hut of an eremite, where my
cousin took shelter; and, learning that Hugo was on
his way to Normandy, he made himself known as
Sweyn, the once fair and proud Earl of England, eldest
son to old Godwin, and father to Haco, whom our
Count still holds as a hostage. He besought Hugo to
intercede with the Count for Haco's release and re-
turn, if King Edward assented thereto; and charged
my cousin, moreover, with a letter to Harold, his
brother, which Hugo undertook to send over. By
good luck, it so chanced that, through all his sore
trials, cousin Hugo kept safe round his neck a leaden
effigy of the Virgin. The infidels disdained to rob
him of lead, little dreaming the worth which the sanc-
tity gave to the metal. To the back of the image
Hugo fastened the letter, and so, though somewhat
tattered and damaged, he had it still with him on ar-
riving in Rouen.

" Knowing, then, my grace with the Count, and not,
despite absolution and pilgrimage, much wishing to
trust himself in the presence of William, who thinks
gravely of fratricide, he prayed me to deliver the
message, and ask leave to send to England the letter."

270 HAROLD

" It is a long tale," quoth the abbot.

" Patience, my father! I am nearly at the end.
Nothing more in season could chance for my fortunes.
Know that William has been long moody and anxious
as to matters in England. The secret accounts he
receives from the Bishop of London make him see
that Edward's heart is much alienated from him, espe-
cially since the Count has had daughters and sons;
for, as thou knowest, William and Edward both took
vows of chastity in youth,1 and William got absolved
from his, while Edward hath kept firm to the plight.
Not long ere my cousin came back, William had heard
that Edward had acknowledged his kinsman as natural
heir to his throne. Grieved and troubled at this, Will-
iam had said in my hearing, ' Would that amidst yon
statues of steel, there were some cool head and wise
tongue I could trust with my interests in England!
and would that I could devise fitting plea and excuse
for an envoy to Harold the Earl ! ' Much had I mused
over these words, and a light-hearted man was Mallet
de Graville when, with Sweyn's letter in hand, he went
to Lanfranc the abbot and said, 'Patron and father!
thou knowest that I, almost alone of the Norman
knights, have studied the Saxon language. And if the
Duke wants messenger and plea, here stands the mes-
senger, and in his hand is the plea.' Then I told my
tale. Lanfranc went at once to Duke William. By
this time, news of the Atheling's death had arrived,
and things looked more bright to my liege. Duke
William was pleased to summon me straightway, and
give me his instructions. So over the sea I came
alone, save a single squire, reached London, learned
the King and his court were at Winchester (but with
1 See Note to Robert of Glouce'ster, vol. ii. p. 372. •

HAROLD 271

them I had little to do), and that Harold the Earl was
at the head of his forces in Wales against Gryffyth the
Lion King. The Earl had sent in haste for a picked
and chosen band of his own retainers, on his demesnes
near the city. These I joined, and learning thy name
at the monastery at Gloucester, I stopped here to tell
thee my news and hear thine."

" Dear brother," said the abbot, looking enviously
on the knight, " would that, like thee, instead of enter-
ing the Church, I had taken up arms! Alike once
was our lot, well born and penniless. Ah me! — Thou
art now as the swan on the river, and I as the shell
on the rock."

" But," quoth the knight, " though the canons, it is
true, forbid monks to knock people on the head, ex-
cept in self-preservation, thou knowest well that, even
in Normandy, (which, I take it, is the sacred college
of all priestly lore, on this side the Alps,) those canons
are deemed too rigorous for practice: and, at all events,
it is not forbidden thee to look on the pastime with
sword or mace by thy side in case of need. Where-
fore, remembering thee in times past, I little counted
on finding thee — like a slug in thy cell! No; but with
mail on thy back, the canons clean forgotten, and help-
ing stout Harold to sliver and brain these turbulent
Welchmen."

"Ah me! ah me! No such good fortune!" sighed
the tall abbot. " Little, despite thy former sojourn in
London, and thy lore of their tongue, knowest thou
of these unmannerly Saxons. Rarely indeed do abbot
and prelate ride to the battle;1 and were it not for a

1 The Saxon priests were strictly forbidden to bear arms. —
SPELM. Concil. p. 238.
It is mentioned in the English Chronicles, as a very extraor-

272 HAROLD

huge Danish monk, who took refuge here to escape
mutilation for robbery, and who mistakes the Virgin
for a Valkyr, and St. Peter for Thor, — were it not, I
say, that we now and then have a bout at sword-play
together, my arm would be quite out of practice."

" Cheer thee, old friend," said the knight, pityingly,
" better times may come yet. Meanwhile, now to
affairs. For all I hear strengthens all William has
heard, that Harold the Earl is the first man in Eng-
land. Is it not so? "

" Truly, and without dispute."

" Is he married, or celibate? For that is a ques-
tion which even his own men seem to answer equivo-
cally."

" Why, all the wandering minstrels have songs, I am
told by those who comprehend this poor barbarous
tongue, of the beauty of Editha pulchra, to whom it is
said the Earl is betrothed, or it may be worse. But
he is certainly not married, for the dame is akin to
him within the degrees of the Church."

"Hem, not married! that is well; and this Algar,
or Elgar, he is not now with the Welch, I hear."

"No; sore ill at Chester with wounds and much
chafing, for he hath sense to see that his cause is lost.
The Norwegian fleet have been scattered over the seas
by the Earl's ships, like birds in a storm. The rebel
, Saxons who joined Gryffyth under Algar have been
so beaten, that those who survive have deserted their
chief, and Gryffyth himself is penned up in his last
defiles, and cannot much longer resist the stout foe,
who, by valorous St. Michael, is truly a great cap-

dinary circumstance, that a bishop of Hereford, who had been
Harold's chaplain, did actually take sword and shield against
the Welch. Unluckily, this valiant prelate was slain so soon,
that it was no encouraging example.

HAROLD 273

tain. As soon as Gryffyth is subdued, Algar will be
crushed in his retreat, like a bloated spider in his web;
and then England will have rest, unless our liege, as
thou hintest, set her to work again."

The Norman knight mused a few moments, before
he said:

" I understand, then, that there is no man in the
land who is peer to Harold: — not, I suppose, Tostig
his brother?"

" Not Tostig, surely, whom nought but Harold's
repute keeps a day in his earldom. But of late — for
he is brave and skilful in war — he hath done much to
command the respect, though he cannot win back the
love, of his fierce Northumbrians, for he hath holpen
the Earl gallantly in this invasion of Wales, both by sea
and by land. But Tostig shines only from his broth-
er's light; and if Gurth were more ambitious, Gurth
alone could be Harold's rival."

The Norman, much satisfied with the information
thus gleaned from the abbot, who, despite his igno-
rance of the Saxon tongue, was, like all his country-
men, acute and curious, now rose to depart. The
abbot, detaining him a few moments, and looking at
him wistfully, said, in a low voice:

" What thinkest thou are Count William's chances
of England?"

" Good, if he have recourse to stratagem ; sure, if he
can win Harold."

" Yet, take my word, the English love not the Nor-
mans, and will fight stiffly."

" That I believe. But if fighting must be, I see that

it will be the fight of a single battle, for there is neither

fortress nor mountain to admit of long warfare. And

look you, my friend, everything here is worn out!

VOL. I.— 18

274 HAROLD

The royai line is extinct with Edward, save in a child,
whom I hear no man name as a successor; the old
nobility are gone, there is no reverence for old names;
the Church is as decrepit in the spirit as thy lath mon-
astery is decayed in its timbers; the martial spirit of
the Saxon is half rotted away in the subjugation to a
clergy, not brave and learned, but timid and ignorant;
the desire for money eats up all manhood; the people
have been accustomed to foreign monarchs under the
Danes; and William, once victor, would have but to
promise to retain the old laws and liberties, to estab-
lish himself as firmly as Canute. The Anglo-Danes
might trouble him somewhat, but rebellion would be-
come a weapon in the hands of a schemer like William.
He would bristle all the land with castles and forts, and
hold it as a camp. My poor friend, we shall live yet
to exchange gratulations, — thou prelate of some fair
English see, and I baron of broad English lands."

" I think thou art right," said the tall abbot, cheer-
ily, " and marry, when the day comes, I will at least
fight for the Duke. Yea — thou art right," he con-
tinued, looking round the dilapidated walls of the c^ll;
" all here is worn out, and naught can restore the
realm, save the Norman William, or "

"Or who?"

" Or the Saxon Harold. But thou goest to see him
— judge for thyself."

" I will do so, and heedfully," said the Sire de
Graville; and embracing his friend he renewed his
journey.

HAROLD 275

CHAPTER VII

Messire Mallet de Graville possessed in perfection
that cunning astuteness which characterised the Nor-
mans, as it did all the old pirate races of the Baltic;
and if, O reader, thou, peradventure, shouldst ever in
this remote day have dealings with the tall men of Ebor
or Yorkshire, there wilt thou yet find the old Dane-
father's wit — it may be to thy cost — more especially
if treating for those animals which the ancestors ate,
and which the sons, without eating, still manage to
fatten on.

But though the crafty knight did his best, during his
progress from London into Wales, to extract from
Sexwolf all such particulars respecting Harold and his
brethren as he had reasons for wishing to learn, he
found the stubborn sagacity or caution of the Saxon
more than a match for him. Sexwolf had a dog's in-
stinct in all that related to his master; and he felt,
though he scarce knew why, that the Norman cloaked
some design upon Harold in all the cross-questionings
so carelessly ventured. And his stiff silence, or bluff
replies, when Harold was mentioned, contrasted much
the unreserve of his talk when it turned upon the gen-
eral topics of the day, or the peculiarities of Saxon
manners.

By degrees, therefore, the knight, chafed and foiled,
drew into himself; and seeing no farther use could be
made of the Saxon, suffered his own national scorn
of villein companionship to replace his artificial urban-
ity. He therefore rode alone, and a little in advance
of the rest, noticing with a soldier's eye the character-
istics of the country, and marvelling, while he rejoiced,

276 HAROLD

at the insignificance of the defences which, even on the
Marches, guarded the English country from the Cym-
rian ravager.1 In musings of no very auspicious and
friendly nature towards the land he thus visited, the
Norman, on the second day from that in which he had
conversed with the abbot, found himself amongst the
savage defiles of North Wales.

Pausing there in a narrow pass overhung with wild
and desolate rocks, the knight deliberately summoned
his squires, clad himself in his ring mail, and mounted
his great destrier.

" Thou dost wrong, Norman," said Sexwolf, " thou
fatiguest thyself in vain — heavy arms here are needless.
I have fought in this country before: and as for thy
steed, thou wilt soon have to forsake it, and march on
foot."

" Know, friend," retorted the knight, " that I come
not here to learn the horn-book of war; and for ,the
rest, know also, that a noble of Normandy parts with
his life ere he forsakes his good steed."

" Ye outlanders and Frenchmen," said Sexwolf,
showing the whole of his teeth through his forest of
beard, "love boast and big talk; and, on my troth,
thou mayest have thy belly full of them yet; for we
are still in the track of Harold, and Harold never
leaves behind him a foe. Thou art as safe here, as if
singing psalms in a convent."

" For thy jests, let them pass, courteous sir," said the
Norman; " but I pray thee only not to call me French-
man.2 I impute it to thy ignorance in things comely

1 See Note (K), at the end of the volume.

2 The -Normans and French detested each other ; and it was
the Norman who taught to the Saxon his own animosities
against the Frank. A very eminent antiquary, indeed, De la
Rue, considered that the Bayeux tapestry could not be the

HAROLD 277

and martial, and not to thy design to insult me.
Though my own mother was French, learn that a Nor-
man despises a Frank only less than he doth a Jew."

" Crave your grace," said the Saxon, " but I thought
all ye outlanders were the same, rib and rib, sibbe and
sibbe."

" Thou wilt know better, one of these days. March
on, master Sexwolf."

The pass gradually opened on a wide patch of rug-
ged and herbless waste; and Sexwolf, riding up to the
knight, directed his attention to a stone, on which was
inscribed the words, " Hie victor fuit Haroldus" —
Here Harold conquered.

" In sight of a stone like that, no Walloon dare
come," said the Saxon.

" A simple and classical trophy," remarked the Nor-
man, complacently, " and saith much. I am glad to
see thy lord knows the Latin."

" I say not that he knows Latin," replied the pru-
dent Saxon; fearing that that could be no wholesome
information on his lord's part, which was of a kind
to give gladness to the Norman — " Ride on while the
road lets ye — in God's name."

On the confines of Caernarvonshire, the troop halted
at a small village, round which had been newly dug
a deep military-trench, bristling with palisades, and
within its confines might be seen, — some reclined on
the grass, some at dice, some drinking, — many men,

work of Matilda, or her age, because in it the Normans are
called French. But that is a gross blunder on his part; for
William, in his own charters, calls the Normans " Franci."
Wace, in his " Roman de Rou." often styles the Normans
" French ; " and William of Poitiers, a contemporary of the
Conqueror, gives them also in one passage the same name.
Still, it is true that the Normans were generally very tenacious
of their distinction from their gallant but hostile neighbours.

278 HAROLD

whose garbs of tanned hide, as well as a pennon wav-
ing from a little mound in the midst, bearing the tiger
heads of Earl Harold's insignia, showed them to be
Saxons.

" Here we shall learn," said Sexwolf, " what the
Earl is about — and here, at present, ends my journey."

"Are these the Earl's headquarters, then? — no cas-
tle, even of wood — no wall, nought but ditch and pali-
sades? " asked Mallet de Graville in a tone between
surprise and contempt.

" Norman," said Sexwolf, " the castle is there,
though you see it not, and so are the walls. The cas-
tle is Harold's name, which no Walloon will dare to
confront; and the walls are the heaps of the slain
which lie in every valley around." So saying, he
wound his horn, which was speedily answered, and led
the way over a plank which admitted across the
trench.

" Not even a drawbridge ! " groaned the knight.

Sexwolf exchanged a few words with one who
seemed the head of the small garrison, and then re-
gaining the Norman, said: "The Earl and his men
have advanced into the mountainous regions of Snow-
don; and there, it is said, the blood-lusting Gryffyth is
at length driven to bay. Harold hath left orders that,
after as brief a refreshment as may be, I and my men,
taking the guide he hath left for us, join him on foot.
There may now be danger: for though Gryffyth him-
self may be pinned to his heights, he may have met
some friends in these parts to start up from crag and
combe. The way on horse is impassable: wherefore,
master Norman, as our quarrel is not thine nor thine
our lord, I commend thee to halt here in peace and in
safety, with the sick and the prisoners."

HAROLD 279

" It is a merry companionship, doubtless," said the
Norman; " but one travels to learn, and I would fain
see somewhat of thine uncivil skirmishings with these
men of the mountains; wherefore, as I fear my poor
mules are light of the provender, give me to eat and
to drink. And then shall thou see, should we come
in sight of the enemy, if a Norman's big words are
the sauce of small deeds."

" Well spoken, and better than I reckoned on," said
Sexwolf, heartily.

While De Graville, alighting, sauntered about the
village, the rest of the troop exchanged greetings with
their countrymen. It was, even to the warrior's eye,
a mournful scene. Here and there, heaps of ashes
and ruin — houses riddled and burned — the small,
humble church, untouched indeed by war, but look-
ing desolate and forlorn — with sheep grazing on large
recent mounds thrown over the brave dead, who slept
in the ancestral spot they had defended.

The air was fragrant with spicy smells of the gale
or bog myrtle; and the village lay sequestered in a
scene wild indeed and savage, but prodigal of a stern
beauty to which the Norman, poet by race, and
scholar by culture, was not insensible. Seating him-
self on a rude stone, apart from all the warlike and
murmuring groups, he looked forth on the dim and
vast mountain peaks, and the rivulet that rushed be-
low, intersecting the village, and lost amidst copses
of mountain ash. From these more refined contem-
plations he was roused by Sexwolf, who, with greater
courtesy than was habitual to him, accompanied the
theowes who brought the knight a repast, consisting
of cheese, and small pieces of seethed kid, with a large
horn of very indifferent mead.

280 HAROLD

" The Earl puts all his men on Welch diet," said the
captain, apologetically. " For indeed, in this lengthy
warfare, nought else is to be had ! "

The knight curiously inspected the cheese, and bent
earnestly over the kid.

" It sufficeth, good Sexwolf," said he, suppressing
a natural sigh. " But instead of this honey-drink,
which is more fit for bees than for men, get me a
draught of fresh water: water is your only safe drink
before fighting."

" Thou hast never drank ale, then! " said the Saxon;
" but thy foreign tastes shall be heeded, strange man."

A little after noon, the horns were sounded, and the
troop prepared to depart. But the Norman observed
that they had left behind all their horses: and his
squire, approaching, informed him that Sexwolf had
positively forbidden the knight's steed to be brought
forth.

" Was it ever heard before," cried Sire Mallet de
Graville, " that a Norman knight was expected to
walk, and to walk against a foe too! Call hither the
villein, — that is, the captain."

But Sexwolf himself here appeared, and to him De
Graville addressed his indignant remonstrance. The
Saxon stood firm, and to each argument replied sim-
ply, "It is the Earl's orders;" and finally wound up
with a bluff — "Go or let alone: stay here with thy
horse, or march with us on thy feet."

" My horse is a gentleman," answered the knight,
" and, as such, would be my more fitting companion.
But as it is, I yield to compulsion — I bid thee sol-
emnly observe, by compulsion; so that it may never
be said of William Mallet de Graville, that he walked,
bon grt, to battle." With that, he loosened hia sword

HAROLD 281

in the sheath, and, still retaining his ring mail, fitting
close as a shirt, strode on with the rest.

A Welch guide, subject to one of the Underkings
(who was in allegiance to England, and animated, as
many of those petty chiefs were, with a vindictive jeal-
ousy against the rival tribe of Gryffyth, far more in-
tense than his dislike of the Saxon), led the way.

The road wound for some time along the course
of the river Conway; Penmaen-mawr loomed before
them. Not a human being came in sight, not a goat
was seen on the distant ridges, not a sheep on the
pastures. The solitude in the glare of the broad
August sun was oppressive. Some houses they passed
— if buildings of rough stones, containing but a single
room, can be called houses — but they were deserted.
Desolation preceded their way, for they were on the
track of Harold the Victor. At length, they passed
the cold Conovium, now Caer-hen, lying low near the
river. There were still (not as we now scarcely dis-
cern them, after centuries of havoc,) the mighty ruins
of the Romans, — vast shattered walls, a tower half
demolished, visible remnants of gigantic baths, and,
proudly rising near the present ferry of Tal-y-Cafn,
the fortress, almost unmutilated, of Castell-y-Bryn.
On the castle waved the pennon of Harold. Many
large flat-bottomed boats were moored to the river-
side, and the whole place bristled with spears and jave-
lins.

Much comforted, (for, — though he disdained to
murmur, and rather than forego his mail, would have
died therein a martyr, — Mallet de Graville was mightily
wearied by the weight of his steel,) and hoping now to
see Harold himself, the knight sprang forward with a
spasmodic effort at liveliness, and found himself in the

282 HAROLD

midst of a group, among whom he recognised at a
glance his old acquaintance, Godrith. Doffing his
helm with its long nose-piece, he caught the thegn's
hand, and exclaimed:

" Well met, venire de Guillaume! well met, O Godree
the debonnairl Thou rememberest Mallet de Gra-
ville, and in this unseemly guise, on foot, and with
villeins, sweating under the eyes of plebeian Phcebus,
thou beholdest that much-suffering man ! "

" Welcome indeed," returned Godrith, with some
embarrassment; "but how earnest thou hither, and
whom seekest thou?"

" Harold, thy Count, man — and I trust he is here."

" Not so, but not far distant — at a place by the
mouth of the river called Caer Gyffin.1 Thou shalt
take boat, and be there ere the sunset"

" Is a battle at hand? Yon churl disappointed and
tricked me; he promised me danger, and not a soul
have we met."

" Harold's besom sweeps clean," answered Godrith,
smiling. " But thou art like, perhaps, to be in at the
death. We have driven this Welch lion to bay at last.
He is ours, or grim Famine's. Look yonder;" and
Godrith pointed to the heights of Penmaen-mawr.
" Even at this distance, you may yet descry something
grey and dim against the sky."

" Deemest thou my eye so ill practised in siege, as
not to see towers ? Tall and massive they are, though
they seem here as airy as masts, and as dwarfish as
landmarks."

" On that hill-top, and in those towers, is Gryffyth,
the Welch king, with the last of his force. He can-
not escape us; our ships guard all the coasts of the
1 The present town and castle of Conway.

HAROLD 283

shore; our troops, as here, surround every pass. Spies,
night and day, keep watch. The Welch moels (or
beacon-rocks) are manned by our warders. And, were
the Welch King to descend, signals would blaze from
post to post, and gird him with fire and sword. From
land to land, from hill to hill, from Hereford to Caer-
leon, from Caerleon to Milford, from Milford to Snow-
don, through Snowdon to yonder fort, built, they say,
by the fiends or the giants, — through defile and
through forest, over rock, through morass, we have
pressed on his heels. Battle and foray alike have
drawn the blood from his heart; and thou wilt have
seen the drops yet red on the way, where the stone
tells that Harold was victor."

" A brave man and true king, then, this Gryffyth,"
said the Norman, with some admiration; "but," he
added in a colder tone, " I confess, for my own part,
that though I pity the valiant man beaten, I honour
the brave man who wins; and though I have seen
but little of this rough land as yet, I can well judge
from what I have seen, that no captain, not of patience
unwearied, and skill most consummate, could conquer
a bold enemy in a country where every rock is a fort."

" So I fear," answered Godrith, " that thy country-
man Rolf found; for the Welch beat him sadly, and the
reason was plain. He insisted on using horses where
no horses could climb, and attiring men in full armour
to fight against men light and nimble as swallows,
that skim the earth, then are lost in clouds. Har-
old, more wise, turned our Saxons into Welchmen,
flying as they flew, climbing where they climbed; it
has been as a war of the birds. And now there rests
but the eagle, in his last lonely eyrie."

" Thy battles have improved thy eloquence much,

284 HAROLD

Messire Godree," said the Norman, condescending-
ly. " Nevertheless, I cannot but think a few light
horse "

"Could scale yon mountain-brow?" said Godrith,
laughing, and pointing to Penmaen-mawr.

The Norman looked and was silent, though he
thought to himself, " That Sexwolf was no such dolt
after all!"

BOOK VII

THE WELCH KING

CHAPTER I

The sun had just cast his last beams over the breadth
of water into which Conway, or rather Cyn-wy, " the
great river," emerges its winding waves. Not at that
time existed the matchless castle, which is now the
monument of Edward Plantagenet, and the boast of
Wales. But besides all the beauty the spot took from
nature, it had even some claim from ancient art. A
rude fortress rose above the stream of Gyffin, out of
the wrecks of some greater Roman hold,1 and vast
ruins of a former town lay round it; while opposite the
fort, on the huge and ragged promontory of Gogarth,
might still be seen, forlorn and grey, the wrecks of
the imperial city, destroyed ages before by lightning.

All these remains of a power and a pomp that Rome
in vain had bequeathed to the Briton, were full of pa-
thetic and solemn interest, when blent with the
thought, that on yonder steep, the brave prince of a
race of heroes, whose line transcended, by ages, all the
other royalties of the North, awaited, amidst the ruins
of man, and in the stronghold which nature yet gave,
the hour of his doom.

But these were not the sentiments of the martial and
observant Norman, with the fresh blood of a new race
of conquerors.

1 See CAMDEN'S Britannia, " Caernarvonshire."
285

286 HAROLD

" In this land," thought he, " far more even than in
that of the Saxon, there are the ruins of old ; and when
the present can neither maintain nor repair the past,
its future is subjection or despair."

Agreeably to the peculiar uses of Saxon military
skill, which seems to have placed all strength in dykes
and ditches, as being perhaps the cheapest and readiest
outworks, a new trench had been made round the fort,
on two sides, connecting it on the third and fourth
with the streams of Gyffin and the Conway. But the
boat was rowed up to the very walls, and the Norman,
springing to land, was soon ushered into the presence
of the Earl.

Harold was seated before a rude table, and bending
over a rough map of the great mountain of Penmaen ;
a lamp of iron stood beside the map, though the air
was yet clear.

The Earl rose, as De Graville, entering with the
proud but easy grace habitual to his countrymen, said,
in his best Saxon:

" Hail to Earl Harold! William Mallet de Graville,
the Norman, greets him, and brings him news from
beyond the seas."

There was only one seat in that bare room — the
seat from which the Earl had risen. He placed it
with simple courtesy before his visitor, and leaning,
himself, against the table, said, in the Norman tongue,
which he spoke fluently:

" It is no slight thanks that I owe to the Sire de
Graville, that he hath undertaken voyage and jour-
ney on my behalf; but before you impart your news,
I pray you to take rest and food."

"Rest will not be unwelcome; and food, if unre-
stricted to goats' cheese, and kid-flesh, — luxuries new

HAROLD 287

to my palate, — will not be untempting; but neither
food nor rest can I take, noble Harold, before I ex-
cuse myself, as a foreigner, for thus somewhat infring-
ing your laws by which we are banished, and acknowl-
edging gratefully the courteous behaviour I have met
from thy countrymen notwithstanding."

" Fair Sir," answered Harold, " pardon us if, jeal-
ous of our laws, we have seemed inhospitable to those
who would meddle with them. But the Saxon is never
more pleased than when the foreigner visits him only
as the friend: to the many who settle amongst us for
commerce — Fleming, Lombard, German, and Saracen
— we proffer shelter and welcome; to the few who,
like thee, Sir Norman, venture over the seas but to
serve us, we give frank cheer and free hand."

Agreeably surprised at this gracious reception from
the son of Godwin, the Norman pressed the hand ex-
tended to him, and then drew forth a small case, and
related accurately, and with feeling, the meeting of
his cousin with Sweyn, and Sweyn's dying charge.

The Earl listened, with eyes bent on the ground, and
face turned from the lamp; and, when Mallet had con-
cluded his recital, Harold said, with an emotion he
struggled in vain to repress:

" I thank you cordially, gentle Norman, for kindness
kindly rendered! I — I — ' The voice faltered. "Sweyn
was very dear to me in his sorrows! We heard that
he had died in Lycia, and grieved much and long. So,

after he had thus spoken to your cousin, he — he

Alas! O Sweyn, my brother! "

"He died," said the Norman, soothingly; "but
shriven and absolved; and my cousin says, calm and
hopeful, as they die ever who have knelt at the Sa-
viour's tomb! "

288 HAROLD

Harold bowed his head, and turned the case that
held the letter again and again in his hand, but would
not venture to open it. The knight himself, touched
by a grief so simple and manly, rose with the delicate
instinct that belongs to sympathy, and retired to the
door, without which yet waited the officer who had
conducted him.

Harold did not attempt to detain him, but followed
him across the threshold, and briefly commanding the
officer to attend to his guest as to himself, said: " With
the morning, Sire de Graville, we shall meet again; I
see that you are one to whom I need not excuse man's
natural emotions."

"A noble presence!" muttered the knight, as he
descended the stairs; "but he hath Norman, at least
Norse, blood in his veins on the distaff side. — Fair
Sir! " — (this aloud to the officer) — " any meat save the
kid-flesh, I pray thee; and any drink save the mead! "

" Fear not, guest," said the officer; " for Tostig the
Earl hath two ships in yon bay, and hath sent us sup-
plies that would please Bishop William of London;
for Tostig the Earl is a toothsome man."

" Commend me, then, to Tostig the Earl," said the
knight; " he is an earl after my own heart."

CHAPTER II

On re-entering the room, Harold drew the large
bolt across the door, opened the case, and took forth
the distained and tattered scroll:

" When this comes to thee, Harold, the brother of
thy childish days will sleep in the flesh, and be lost
to men's judgment and earth's woe in the spirit. I

HAROLD 289

have knelt at the Tomb; but no dove hath come forth
from the cloud, — no stream of grace hath re-baptised
the child of wrath! They tell me now — monk and
priest tell me — that I have atoned all my sins; that the
dread weregeld is paid; that I may enter the world
of men with a spirit free from the load, and a name
redeemed from the stain. Think so, O brother! — Bid
my father (if he still lives, the dear old man!) think
so; — tell Githa to think it; and oh, teach Haco, my
son, to hold the belief as a truth! Harold, again I
commend to thee my son; be to him as a father! My
death surely releases him as a hostage. Let him not
grow up in the court of the stranger, in the land of our
foes. Let his feet, in his youth, climb the green holts
of England; — let his eyes, ere sin dims them, drink
the blue of her skies! When this shall reach thee,
thou in thy calm, effortless strength, wilt be more great
than Godwin our father. Power came to him with
travail and through toil, the geld of craft and of force.
Power is born to thee as strength to the strong man;
it gathers around thee as thou movest; it is not thine
aim, it is thy nature, to be great. Shield my child
with thy might; lead him forth from the prison-house
by thy serene right hand! I ask not for lordships and
earldoms, as the appanage of his father; train him not
to be rival to thee: — I ask but for freedom, and Eng-
lish air! So countine on thee, O Harold, I turn my
face to the wall, and hush my wild heart to peace! "

The scroll dropped noiseless from Harold's hand.

" Thus," said he, mournfully, " hath passed away
less a life than a dream! Yet of Sweyn, in owr child-
hood, was Godwin most proud ; who so lovely in peace,
and so terrible in wrath? Mv mother taught him the
songs of the Baltic, and Hilda led his steps through
VOL. I. — io

290 HAROLD

the woodland with tales of hero and scald. Alone of
our House, he had the gift of the Dane in the flow of
fierce song, and for him things lifeless had being.
Stately tree, from which all the birds of heaven sent
their carol; where the falcon took roost, whence the
mavis flew forth in its glee, — how art thou blasted and
seared, bough and core! — smit by the lightning and
consumed by the worm!"

He paused, and, though none were by, he long
shaded his brow with his hand.

" Now," thought he, as he rose and slowly paced
the chamber, " now to what lives yet on earth — his
son! Often hath my mother urged me in behalf of
these hostages; and often have I sent to reclaim them.
Smooth and false pretexts have met my own demand,
and even the remonstrance of Edward himself. But,
surely, now that William hath permitted this Norman
to bring over the letter, he will assent to what it hath
become a wrong and an insult to refuse; and Haco will
return to his father's land, and Wolnoth to his moth-
er's arms."

CHAPTER III

Messire Mallet de Graville (as becomes a man bred
up to arms, and snatching sleep with quick grasp
whenever that blessing be his to command) no sooner
laid his head on the pallet to which he had been con-
signed, than his eyes closed, and his senses were deaf
even to dreams. But at the dead of the midnight he
was wakened by sounds that might have roused the
Seven Sleepers — shouts, cries, and yells, the blast of
horns, the tramp of feet, and the more distant roar of
hurrying multitudes. He leaped from his bed, and the

HAROLD 291

whole chamber was filled with a lurid blood-red air.
His first thought was that the fort was on fire. But
springing upon the settle along the wall, and looking
through the loophole of the tower, it seemed as if not
the fort but the whole land was one flame, and through
the glowing atmosphere he beheld all the ground, near
and far, swarming with men. Hundreds were swim-
ming the rivulet, clambering up dyke mounds, rushing
on the levelled spears of the defenders, breaking
through line and palisade, pouring into the enclosures;
some in half-armour of helm and corselet — others in
linen tunics — many almost naked. Loud sharp shrieks
of "Alleluia!"1 blended with those of "Out! out!
Holy crosse \"2 He divined at once that the Welch
were storming the Saxon hold. Short time indeed
sufficed for that active knight to case himself in his
mail; and, sword in hand, he burst through the door,
cleared the stairs, and gained the hall below, which was
filled with men arming in haste.

"Where is Harold?" he exclaimed.

" On the trenches already," answered Sexwolf,
buckling his corselet of hide. " This Welch hell hath
broke loose."

" And yon are their beacon-fires? Then the whole
land is upon us! "

1 When (A.D. 220) the bishops, Germanicus, and Lupus,
headed the Britons against the Picts and Saxons, in Easter
week, fresh from their baptism in the Alyn, Germanicus or-
dered them to attend to his war-cry, and repeat it ; he gave
" Alleluia." The hills so loudly re-echoed the cry, that the
enemy caught panic, and fled with great slaughter. Maes
Garmon, in Flintshire, was the' scene of the victory.

2 The cry of the English at the onset of battle was " Holy
Crosse, God Almighty ; " afterwards in fight, " Ouct, ouct, '
out, out. — HEARNE'S Disc. Antiquity of Motts.

The latter cry, probably, originated in the habit of defend-
ing their standard and central posts with barricades and closed
shields ; and thus, idiomatically and vulgarly, signified " get
out."

292 HAROLD

"Prate less," quoth Sexwolf; "those are the hills
now held by the warders of Harold: our spies gave
them notice, and the watch-fires prepared us ere the
fiends came in sight, otherwise we had been lying here
limbless or headless. Now, men, draw up, and march
forth."

"Hold! hold!" cried the pious knight, crossing
himself, " is there no priest here to bless us? first a
prayer and a psalm ! "

"Prayer and psalm!" cried Sexwolf, astonished,
" an thou hadst said ale and mead, I could have under-
stood thee.— Out! Out! — Holyrood, Holyrood! "

"The godless paynims!" muttered the Norman,
borne away with the crowd.

Once in the open space, the scene was terrific. Brief
as had been the onslaught the carnage was already
unspeakable. By dint of sheer physical numbers, ani-
mated by a valour that seemed as the frenzy of mad-
men or the hunger of wolves, hosts of the Britons had
crossed trench and stream, seizing with their hands
the points of the spears opposed to them, bounding
over the corpses of their countrymen, and with yells
of wild joy rushing upon the close serried lines drawn
up before the fort. The stream seemed literally to
run gore; pierced by javelins and arrows, corpses
floated and vanished, while numbers, undeterred by
the havoc, leaped into the waves from the opposite
banks. Like bears that surround the ship of a sea-
king beneath the polar meteors, or the midnight sun
of the north, came the savage warriors through that
glaring atmosphere.

Amidst all, two forms were pre-eminent: the one,
lall and towering, stood by the trench, and behind a
banner, that now drooped round the stave, now

HAROLD 293

streamed wide and broad, stirred by the rush of men
— for the night in itself was breezeless. With a vast
Danish axe wielded by both hands, stood this man,
confronting hundreds, and at each stroke, rapid as the
levin, fell a foe. All round him was a wall of his own
— the dead. But in the centre of the space, leading
on a fresh troop of shouting Welchmen who had forced
their way from another part, was a form which seemed
charmed against arrow and spear. For the defensive
arms of this chief were as slight as if worn but for
ornament: a small corselet of gold covered only the
centre of his breast, a gold collar of twisted wires cir-
cled his throat, and a gold bracelet adorned his bare
arm, dropping gore, not his own, from the wrist to the
elbow. He was small and slight-shaped — below the
common standard of men — but he seemed as one made
a giant by the sublime inspiration of war. He wore
no helmet, merely a golden circlet; and his hair, of
deep red (longer than was usual with the Welch), hung
like the mane of a lion over his shoulders, tossing
loose with each stride. His eyes glared like the tiger's
at night, and he leaped on the spears with a bound.
Lost a moment amidst hostile ranks, save by the swift
glitter of his short sword, he made, amidst all, a path
for himself and his followers, and emerged from the
heart of the steel unscathed and loud-breathing; while,
round the line he had broken, wheeled and closed his
wild men, striking, rushing, slaying, slain.

" Pardex, this is war worth the sharing," said the
knight. " And now, worthy Sexwolf, thou shalt see
if the Norman is the vaunter thou deemest him. Dicu
nous aide! Notre Dame! — Take the foe in the rear."
But turning round, he perceived that Sexwolf had
already led his men towards the standard, which

294 HAROLD

showed them where stood the Earl, almost alone in
his peril. The knight, thus left to himself, did not
hesitate: — a minute more, and he was in the midst of
the Welch force, headed by the chief with the golden
panoply. Secure in his ring mail against the light
weapons of the Welch, the sweep of the Norman sword
was as the scythe of Death. Right and left he smote
through the throng which he took in the flank, and
had almost gained the small phalanx of Saxons, that
lay firm in the midst, when the Cymrian Chief's flash-
ing eye was drawn to his new and strange foe, by the
roar and the groan round the Norman's way; and with
the half-naked breast against the shirt of mail, and the
short Roman sword against the long Norman falchion,
the Lion King of Wales fronted the knight.

Unequal as seems the encounter, so quick was the
spring of the Briton, so pliant his arm, and so rapid
his weapon, that that good knight (who rather from
skill and valour than brute physical strength, ranked
amongst the prowest of William's band of martial
brothers) would willingly have preferred to see before
him Fitzosborne or Montgommeri, all clad in steel
and armed with mace and lance, than parried those
dazzling strokes, and fronted the angry majesty of
that helmless brow. Already the strong rings of his
mail had been twice pierced, and his blood trickled
fast, while his great sword had but smitten the air in
its sweeps at the foe; when the Saxon phalanx, taking
advantage of the breach in the ring that girt them,
caused by this diversion, and recognising with fierce
ire the gold torque and breastplate of the Welch King,
made their desperate charge. Then for some minutes
the pele mele was confused and indistinct — blows blind
and at random — death coming no man knew whence

HAROLD 295

or how; till discipline and steadfast order (which the
Saxons kept, as by mechanism, through the discord)
obstinately prevailed. The wedge forced its way; and,
though reduced in numbers and sore wounded, the
Saxon troop cleared the ring, and joined the main
force drawn up by the fort, and guarded in the rear
by its wall.

Meanwhile Harold, supported by the band under
Sexwolf, had succeeded at length in repelling farther
reinforcements of the Welch at the more accessible
part of the trenches; and casting now his practised eye
over the field, he issued orders for some of the men
to regain the fort, and open from the battlements, and
from every loophole, the batteries of stone and javelin,
which then (with the Saxons, unskilled in sieges,)
formed the main artillery of forts. These orders
given, he planted Sexwolf and most of his band to keep
watch round the trenches; and shading his eye with
his hand, and looking towards the moon, all waning
and dimmed in the watchfires, he said, calmly, " Now
patience fights for us. Ere the moon reaches yon
hill-top, the troops of Aber and Caer-hen will be on
the slopes of Penmaen, and cut off the retreat of the
Walloons. Advance my flag to the thick of yon
strife."

But as the Earl, with his axe swung over his shoul-
der, and followed but by some half-score or more with
his banner, strode on where the wild war was now
mainly concentrated, just midway between trench and
fort, Gryffyth caught sight both of the banner and the
Earl, and left the press at the very moment when he
had gained the greatest advantage; and when, indeed,
but for the Norman, who, wounded as he was, and
unused to fight on foot, stood resolute in the van, the

296 HAROLD

Saxons, wearied out by numbers, and falling fast be-
neath the javelins, would have fled into their walls,
and so sealed their fate, — for the Welch would have
entered at their heels.

But it was the misfortune of the Welch heroes never
to learn that war is a science; and instead of now
centring all force on the point most weakened, the
whole field vanished from the fierce eye of the Welch
King, when he saw the banner and form of Harold.

The Earl beheld the coming foe, wheeling round, as
the hawk on the heron; — halted, drew up his few men
in a semicircle, with their large shields as a rampart,
and their levelled spears as a palisade; and before them
all, as a tower, stood Harold with his axe. In a min-
ute more he was surrounded; and through the rain of
javelins that poured upon him, hissed and glittered
the sword of Gryffyth. But Harold, more practised
than the Sire de Graville in the sword-play of the
Welch, and unencumbered by other defensive armour
(save only the helm, which was shaped like the Nor-
man's,) than his light coat of hide, opposed quickness
to quickness, and suddenly dropping his axe, sprang
upon his foe, and clasping him round with his left
arm, with the right hand griped at his throat:

" Yield and quarter! — yield, for thy life, son of
Llewellyn!"

Strong was that embrace, and deathlike that gripe;
yet, as the snake from the hand of the dervise — as a
ghost from the grasp of the dreamer, the lithe Cym-
rian glided away, and the broken torque was all that
remained in the clutch of Harold.

At this moment a mighty yell of despair broke from
the Welch near the fort: stones and javelins rained
upon them from the walls, and the fierce Norman was

HAROLD 297

in the midst, with his sword drinking blood; but not
for javelin, stone, and sword, shrank and shouted the
Welchmen. On the other side of the trenches were
marching against them their own countrymen, the
rival tribes that helped the stranger to rend the land:
and far to the right were seen the spears of the Saxon
from Aber, and to the left was heard the shout of the
forces under Godrith from Caer-hen; and they who
had sought the leopard in his lair were now them-
selves the prey caught in the toils. With new heart, as
they beheld these reinforcements, the Saxons pressed
on; tumult, and flight, and indiscriminate slaughter,
wrapped the field. The Welch rushed to the stream
and the trenches; and in the bustle and hurlabaloo,
Gryffyth was swept along, as a bull by a torrent; still
facing the foe, now chiding, now smiting his own men,
now rushing alone on the pursuers, and halting their
onslaught, he gained, still unwounded, the stream,
paused a moment, laughed loud, and sprang into the
wave. A hundred javelins hissed into the sullen and
bloody waters. "Hold!" cried Harold the Earl, lift-
ing his hand on high, " No dastard dart at the brave! "

CHAPTER IV

The fugitive Britons, scarce one-tenth of the number
that had first rushed to the attack, — performed their
flight with the same Parthian rapidity that character-
ised the assault; and escaping both Welch foe and
Saxon, though the. former broke ground to pursue
them, they gained the steeps of Penmaen.

There was no further thought of slumber that night
within the walls. While the wounded were tended,

298 HAROLD

and the dead were cleared from the soil, Harold, with
three of his chiefs, and Mallet de Graville, whose feats
rendered it more than ungracious to refuse his request
that he might assist in the council, conferred upon the
means of terminating the war with the next day. Two
of the thegns, their blood hot with strife and revenge,
proposed to scale the mountain with the whole force
the reinforcements had brought them, and put all they
found to the sword.

The third, old and prudent, and inured to Welch
warfare, thought otherwise.

" None of us," said he, " know what is the true
strength of the place which ye propose to storm. Not
even one Welchman have we found who hath ever
himself gained the summit, or examined the castle
which is said to exist there." *

" Said ! " echoed De Graville, who, relieved of his
mail, and with his wounds bandaged, reclined on his
furs on the floor. " Said, noble sir! Cannot our eyes
perceive the towers? "

The old thegn shook his head. " At a distance,
and through mists, stones loom large, and crags them-
selves take strange shapes. It may be castle, may be
rock, may be old roofless temples of heathenesse that
we see. But to repeat (and, as I am slow, I pray not
again to be put out in my speech) — none of us know
what, there, exists of defence, man-made or Nature-
built. Not even thy Welch spies, son of Godwin, have
gained to the heights. In the midst lie the scouts
of the Welch King, and those on the top can see the
bird fly, the goat climb. Few of thy spies, indeed,

1 Certain high places in Wales, of which this might well be
one, were so sacred, that even the dwellers in the immediate
neighbourhood never presumed to approach them.

HAROLD 299

have ever returned with life; their heads have been left
at the foot of the hill, with the scroll in their lips, —
'Die ad inferos — quid in superis novisti.' Tell to the
shades below what thou hast seen in the heights
above."

" And the Walloons know Latin ! " muttered the
knight; "I respect them!"

The slow thegn frowned, stammered, and renewed:

" One thing at least is clear; that the rock is well
nigh insurmountable to those who know not the
passes; that strict watch, baffling even Welch spies,
is kept night and day; that the men on the summit
are desperate and fierce ; that our own troops are awed
and terrified by the belief of the Welch, that the spot
is haunted and the towers fiend-founded. One single
defeat may lose us two years of victory. Gryffyth may
break from the eyrie, regain what he hath lost, win
back our Welch allies, ever faithless and hollow.
Wherefore, I say, go on as we have begun. Beset
all the country round; cut off all supplies, and let the
foe rot by famine — or waste, as he hath done this
night, his strength by vain onslaught and sally."

" Thy counsel is good," said Harold, " but there is
yet something to add to it, which may shorten the
strife, and gain the end with less sacrifice of life. The
defeat of to-night will have humbled the spirits of the
Welch; take them yet in the hour of despair and dis-
aster. I wish, therefore, to send to their outposts a
nuncius, with these terms: ' Life and pardon to all who
lay down arms and surrender.' '

"What, after such havoc and gore?" cried one of
the thegns.

" They defend their own soil," replied the Earl sim-
ply: "had not we done the same?"

3oo HAROLD

"But the rebel Gryffyth?" asked the old thegn,
" thou canst not accept him again as crowned sub-king
of Edward?"

" No," said the Earl, " I propose to exempt Gryffyth
alone from the pardon, with promise, nathless, of lift
if he give himself up as prisoner; and count, without
further condition, on the King's mercy." There was
a prolonged silence. None spoke against the Earl's
proposal, though the two younger thegns misliked it
much.

At last said the elder, " But hast thou thought who
will carry this message? Fierce and wild are yon
blood-dogs; and man must needs shrive soul and make
will, if he will go to their kennel."

" I feel sure that my bode will be safe," answered
Harold: " for Gryffyth has all the pride of a king, and,
sparing neither man nor child in the onslaught, will
respect what the Roman taught his sires to respect —
envoy from chief to chief — as a head scatheless and
sacred."

" Choose whom thou wilt, Harold," said one of the
young thegns, laughing, "but spare thy friends; and
whomsoever thou choosest, pay his widow the were-
geld."

" Fair sirs," then said De Graville, " if ye think that
I, though a stranger, could serve you as nuncius, it
would be a pleasure to me to undertake this mission.
First, because, being curious as concerns forts and cas-
tles, I would fain see if mine eyes have deceived me in
taking yon towers for a hold of great might. Sec-
ondly, because that same wild-cat of a king must have
a court rare to visit. And the only reflection that
withholds my pressing the offer as a personal suit is,
that though I have some words of the Breton jargon

HAROLD 301

at my tongue's need, I cannot pretend to be a Tully
in Welch; howbeit, since it seems that one, at least,
among them knows something of Latin, I doubt not
but what I shall get out my meaning! "

" Nay, as to that, Sire de Graville," said Harold,
who seemed well pleased with the knight's offer,
" there shall be no hindrance or let, as I will make
clear to you ; and in spite of what you have just heard,
Gryffyth shall harm you not in limb or in life. But,
kindly and courteous Sir, will your wounds permit the
journey, not long, but steep and laborious, and only
to be made on foot? "

"On foot!" said the knight, a little staggered,
" Pardcx! well and truly, I did not count upon that! "

" Enough," said Harold, turning away in evident
disappointment, " think of it no more."

" Nay, by your leave, what I have once said I stand
to," returned the knight ; " albeit, you may as well
cleave in two one of those respectable centaurs of
which we have read in our youth, as part Norman and
horse. I will forthwith go to my chamber, and ap-
parel myself becomingly — not forgetting, in case of the
worst, to wear my mail under my robe. Vouchsafe me
but an armourer, just to rivet up the rings through
which scratched so felinely the paw of that well-
appelled Griffin."

" I accept your offer frankly," said Harold, " and all
shall be prepared for you, as soon as you yourself will
re-seek me here."

The knight rose, and though somewhat stiff and
smarting with his wounds, left the room lightly, sum-
moned his armourer and squire, and having dressed
with all the care and pomp habitual to a Norman, his
gold chain round his neck, and his vest stiff with

302 HAROLD

broidery, he re-entered the apartment of Harold. The
Earl received him alone, and came up to him with a
cordial face. " I thank thee more, brave Norman,
than I ventured to say before my thegns, for I tell thee
frankly, that my intent and aim are to save the life of
this brave king; and thou canst well understand that
every Saxon amongst us must have his blood warmed
by contest, and his eyes blind with national hate. You
alone, as a stranger, see the valiant warrior and hunted
prince, and as such you can feel for him the noble pity
of manly foes."

" That is true," said De Graville, a little surprised,
" though we Normans are at least as fierce as you
Saxons, when we have once tasted blood; and I own
nothing would please me better than to dress that
catamaran in mail, put a spear in its claws, and a horse
under its legs, and thus fight out my disgrace at being
so clawed and mauled by its griffes. And though I
respect a brave knight in distress, I can scarce extend
my compassion to a thing that fights against all rule,
martial and kingly."

The Earl smiled gravely. " It is the mode in which
his ancestors rushed on the spears of Caesar. Pardon
him."

" I pardon him, at your gracious request," quoth
the knight, with a grand air, and waving his hands;
" say on."

" You will proceed with a Welch monk — whom,
though not of the faction of Gryffyth, all Welchmen
respect — to the mouth of a frightful pass, skirting the
river; the monk will bear aloft the holy rood in signal
of peace. Arrived at that pass, you will doubtless be
stopped. The monk here will be spokesman; and ask
safe-conduct to Gryffyth to deliver my message; he

HAROLD 303

will also bear certain tokens, which will no doubt win
the way for you."

" Arrived before Gryffyth, the monk will accost
him; mark and heed well his gestures, since thou wilt
know not the Welch tongue he employs. And when
'he raises the rood, thou, — in the mean while, having
artfully approached close to Gryffyth, — wilt whisper
in Saxon, which he well understands, and pressing the
ring I now give thee into his hand, ' Obey, by this
pledge; thou knowest Harold is true, and thy head is
sold by thine own people.' If he asks more thou
knowest nought."

" So far, this is as should be from chief to chief,"
said the Norman, touched, " and thus had Fitzosborne
done to his foe. I thank thee for this mission, and the
more that thou hast not asked me to note the strength
of the bulwark, and number the men that may keep it."

Again Harold smiled. " Praise me not for this,
noble Norman — we plain Saxons have not your refine-
ments. If ye are led to the summit, which I think ye
will not be, the monk at least will have eyes to see, and
tongue to relate. But to thee I confide this much; —
I know already, that Gryffyth's strongholds are not his
walls and his towers, but the superstition of our men,
and the despair of his own. I could win those heights,
as I have won heights as cloudcapt, but with fearful
loss of my own troops, and the massacre of every foe.
Both I would spare, if I may."

" Yet thou hast not shown such value for life, in the
solitudes I passed," said the knight bluntly.

Harold turned pale, but said firmly, " Sire de Gra-
ville, a stern thing is duty, and resistless is its voice.
These Welchmen, unless curbed to their mountains,
eat into the strength of England, as the tide gnaws

3<H HAROLD

into a shore. Merciless were they in their ravages on
our borders, and ghastly and torturing their fell re-
venge. But it is one thing to grapple with a foe fierce
and strong, and another to smite when his power is
gone, fang and talon. And when I see before me the
faded king of a great race, and the last band of doomed
heroes, too few and too feeble to make head against
my arms, — when the land is already my own, and the
sword is that of the deathsman, not of the warrior, —
verily, Sir Norman, duty releases its iron tool, and
man becomes man again."

" I go," said the Norman, inclining his head low as
to his own great Duke, and turning to the door; yet
there he paused, and looking at the ring which he had
placed on his finger, he said, " But one word more,
if not indiscreet — your answer may help argument, if
argument be needed. What tale lies hid in this
token?"

Harold coloured and paused a moment, then an-
swered :

" Simply this. Gryffyth's wife, the lady Aldyth, a
Saxon by birth, fell into my hands. We were storm-
ing Rhadlan, at the farther end of the isle; she was
there. We war not against women; I feared the
license of my own soldiers, and I sent the lady to
Gryffyth. Aldyth gave me- this ring on parting; and
T bade her tell Gryffyth that whenever, at the hour
of his last peril and sorest need, I sent that ring back
to him, he might hold it the pledge of his life."

" Is this lady, think you, in the stronghold with her
lord ? "

" I am not sure, but I fear yes," answered Harold.

" Yet one word : And if Gryffyth refuse, despite all
warning? "

HAROLD 305

Harold's eyes drooped.

" If so, he dies; but not by the Saxon sword. God
and our lady speed you ! "

CHAPTER V

On the height called Pen-y-Dinas (or " Head of the
City ") forming one of the summits of Penmaen-mawr,
and in the heart of that supposed fortress which no eye
in the Saxon camp had surveyed,1 reclined Gryffyth,
the hunted King. Nor is it marvellous that at that
day there should be disputes as to the nature and
strength of the supposed bulwark, since, in times the
most recent, and among antiquaries the most learned,
the greatest discrepancies exist, not only as to theoreti-
cal opinion, but plain matter of observation, and simple
measurement. The place, however, I need scarcely
say, was not as we see it now, with its foundations of
gigantic ruin, affording ample space for conjecture;
yet, even then* a wreck as of Titans, its date and pur-
pose were lost in remote antiquity.

The central area (in which the Welch King now re-
clined) formed an oval barrow of loose stones: whether
so left from the origin, or the relics of some vanished
building, was unknown even to bard and diviner.
Round this space were four strong circumvallations of
loose stones, with a space about eighty yards between
each; the walls themselves generally about eight feet
wide, but of various height, as the stones had fallen by
time and blast. Along these walls rose numerous and
almost countless circular buildings, which might pass
for towers, though only a few had been recently and

1 See Note (L), at the end of the volume.
VOL. I.— 20

306 HAROLD

rudely roofed in. To the whole of this quadruple en-
closure there was but one narrow entrance, now left
open as if in scorn of assault; and a winding narrow
pass down the mountain, with innumerable curves,
alone led to the single threshold. Far down the hill,
walls again were visible; and the whole surface of the
steep soil, more than half way in the descent, was
heaped with vast loose stones, as if the bones of a dead
city. But beyond the innermost enclosure of the fort
(if fort, or sacred enclosure, be the correcter name),
rose, thick and frequent, other mementos of the Briton;
many cromlechs, already shattered and shapeless; the
ruins of stone houses; and high over all, those up-
raised, mighty amber piles, as at Stonehenge, once
reared, if our dim learning be true, in honour to Bel,
or Bal-Huan,1 the idol of the sun. All, in short,
showed that the name of the place, " the Head of the
City," told its tale ; all announced that, there, once the
Celt had his home, and the gods of the Druid their
worship. And musing amidst these skeletons of the
past, lay the doomed son of Pen-Dragon.

Beside him a kind of throne had been raised with
stones, and over it was spread a tattered and faded
velvet pall. On this throne sat Aldyth the Queen;
and about the royal pair was still that mockery of a
court which the jealous pride of the Celt king re-
tained amidst all the horrors of carnage and famine.
Most of the officers indeed (originally in number
twenty-four), whose duties attached them to the king
and queen of the Cymry, were already feeding the
crow or the worm. But still, with gaunt hawk on his
wrist, the penhebogydd (grand falconer) stood at a
distance; still, with beard sweeping his breast, and
1 See Note (M), at the end of the volume.

HAROLD 307

rod in hand, leant against a projecting shaft of the
wall, the noiseless gosdegwr, whose duty it was to
command silence in the King's hall; and still the pen-
bard bent over his bruised harp, which once had
thrilled, through the fair vaults of Caerleon and Rhal-
dan, in high praise of God, and the King, and the Hero
Dead. In the pomp of gold dish and vessel l the board
was spread on the stones for the King and Queen;
and on the dish was the last fragment of black bread,
and in the vessel full and clear, the water from the
spring that bubbled up everlastingly through the
bones of the dead city.

Beyond this innermost space, round a basin of rock,
through which the stream overflowed as from an arti-
ficial conduit, lay the wounded and exhausted, crawl-
ing, turn by turn, to the lips of the basin, and happy
that the thirst of fever saved them from the gnawing
desire of food. A wan and spectral figure glided list-
lessly to and fro amidst those mangled, and parched,
and dying groups. This personage, in happier times,
filled the office of physician to the court, and was
placed twelfth in rank amidst the chiefs of the house-
hold. And for cure of the " three deadly wounds,"

1 The Welch seem to have had a profusion of the precious
metals very disproportioned to the scarcity of their coined
money. To say nothing of the torques, bracelets, and even
breastplates of gold, common with their numerous chiefs, their
laws affix to offences penalties which attest the prevalent waste
both of gold and silver. Thus, an insult to a sub-king of
Aberfraw is atoned by a silver rod as thick as the King's
little finger, which is in length to reach from the ground to
his mouth when sitting ; and a gold cup, with a cover as broad
as the King's face, and the thickness of a ploughman's nail,
or the shell of a goose's egg. I suspect that it was precisely
because the Welch coined little or no money, that the metals
they possessed became thus common in domestic use. Gold"
would have been more rarely seen, even amongst the Peru-
vians, had they coined it into money.

308 HAROLD

the cloven skull, or the gaping viscera, or the broken
limb (all three classed alike), large should have been
his fee.1 But feeless went he now from man to man,
with his red ointment and his muttered charm; and
those over whom he shook his lean face and matted
locks, smiled ghastly at that sign that release and death
were near. Within the enclosures, either lay supine,
or stalked restless, the withered remains of the wild
army. A sheep, and a horse, and a dog, were yet left
them all to share for the day's meal. And the fire of
flickering and crackling brushwood burned bright
from a hollow amidst the loose stones; but the animals
were yet unslain, and the dog crept by the fire, winking
at it with dim eyes.

But over the lower part of the wall nearest to the
barrow, leant three men. The wall there was so
broken, that they could gaze over it on that grotesque
yet dismal court; and the eyes of the three men, with
a fierce and wolfish glare, were bent on Gryffyth.

Three princes were they of the great old line; far
as Gryffyth they traced the fabulous honours of their
race, to Hu-Gadarn and Prydain, and each thought it
shame that Gryffyth should be lord over him! Each
had had throne and court of his own; each his " white
palace " of peeled willow wands — poor substitutes, O
kings, for the palaces and towers that the arts of Rome
had bequeathed your fathers! And each had been
subjugated by the son of Llewellyn, when, in his day
of might, he re-united under his sole sway all the
multiform principalities of Wales, and regained, for a
moment's splendour, the throne of Roderic the Great.

" Is it," said Owain, in a hollow whisper, " for yon
man, whom heaven hath deserted, who could not keep
1 Leges Wallicae.

HAROLD 309

his very torque from the gripe of the Saxon, that we
are to die on these hills, gnawing the flesh from our
bones? Think ye not the hour is come?"

" The hour will come, when the sheep, and the horse,
and the dog are devoured," replied Modred, " and
when the whole force, as one man, will cry to Gryffyth,
' Thou a king! — give us bread! ' '

" It is well," said the third, an old man, leaning on
a wand of solid silver, while the mountain wind, sweep-
ing between the walls, played with the rags of his
robe, — " it is well that the night's sally, less of war
than of hunger, was foiled even of forage and food.
Had the saints been with Gryffyth, who had dared to
keep faith with Tostig the Saxon."

Owain laughed, a laugh hollow and false.

" Art thou Cymrian, and talkest of faith with a
Saxon? Faith with the spoiler, the ravisher and
butcher? But a Cymrian keeps faith with revenge;
and Gryffyth's trunk should be still crownless and
headless, though Tostig had never proffered the bar-
ter of safety and food. Hist! Gryffyth wakes from
the black dream, and his eyes glow from under his
hair."

And indeed at this moment the King raised himself
on his elbow, and looked round with a haggard and
fierce despair in his glittering eyes.

" Play to us, Harper; sing some song of the deeds
of old!"

The bard mournfully strove to sweep the harp, but.
the chords were broken, and the note came discordant
and shrill as the sigh of a wailing fiend.

" O King! " said the bard, " the music hath left the
harp."

" Ha! " murmured Gryffyth, "and Hope the earth 1

3io HAROLD

Bard, answer the son of Llewellyn. Oft in my halls
hast thou sung the praise of the men that have been.
In the halls of the race to come, will bards yet unborn
sweep their harps to the deeds of thy King? Shall
they tell of the day of Torques, by Llyn-Afangc, when
the princes of Powys fled from his sword as the clouds
from the blast of the wind? Shall they sing, as the
Hirlas goes round, of his steeds of the sea, when no
flag came in sight of his prows between the dark isle
of the Druid1 and the green pastures of Huerdan?2
Or the towns that he fired, on the lands of the Saxon,
when Rolf and the Northmen ran fast from his javelin
and spear? Or say, Child of Truth, if all that is told
of Gryffyth thy King shall be his woe and his shame? "

The bard swept his hand over his eyes, and an-
swered:

" Bards unborn shall sing of Gryffyth the son of
Llewellyn. But the song shall not dwell on the pomp
of his power, when twenty sub-kings knelt at his
throne, and his beacon was lighted in the holds of the
Norman and Saxon. Bards shall sing of the hero, who
fought every inch of crag and morass in the front of
his men, — and on the heights of Penmaen-mawr, Fame
recovers thy crown ! "

" Then I have lived as my fathers in life, and shall
live with their glory in death!" said Gryffyth; "and
so the shadow hath passed from my soul." Then
turning round, still propped upon his elbow, he fixed
his proud eye upon Aldyth, and said gravely, " Wife,
pale is thy face, and gloomy thy brow; mournest thou
the throne or the man? "

Aldyth cast on her wild lord a look of more terror

1 Mona, or Anglesea. * Ireland.

HAROLD 311

than compassion, a look without the grief that is gen-
tle, or the love that reveres; and answered:

" What matter to thee my thoughts or my suffer-
ings? The sword or the famine is the doom thou hast
chosen. Listening to vain dreams from thy bard, or
thine own pride as idle, thou disdainest life for us
both: be it so; let us die!"

A strange blending of fondness and wrath troubled
the pride on Gryffyth's features, uncouth and half sav-
age as they were, but still noble and kingly.

"And what terror has death, if thou lovest me?"
said he.

Aldyth shivered and turned aside. The unhappy
King gazed hard on that face, which, despite sore trial
and recent exposure to rough wind and weather, still
retained the proverbial beauty of the Saxon women
— but beauty without the glow of the heart, as a land-
scape from which sunlight has vanished; and as he
gazed, the colour went and came fitfully over his
swarthy cheeks whose hue contrasted the blue of his
eye and the red tawny gold of his shaggy hair.

" Thou wouldst have me," he said at length, " send
to Harold thy countryman; thou wouldst have me, me
— rightful lord of all Britain — beg for mercy? and sue
for life. Ah, traitress, and child of robber-sires, {air
as Rowena art thou, but no Vortimer am l\ Thou
turnest in loathing from the lord whose marriage-gift
was a crown ; and the sleek form of thy Saxon Harold
rises up through the clouds of the carnage."

All the fierce and dangerous jealousy of man's most
human passion — when man loves and hates in a breath
— trembled in the Cymrian's voice, and fired his
troubled eye; for Aldyth's pale check blushed like the

312 HAROLD

rose, but she folded her arms haughtily on her breast,
and made no reply.

" No," said Gryffyth, grinding teeth, white 1 and
strong as those of a young hound. " No, Harold in
vain sent me the casket; the jewel was gone. In vain
thy form returned to my side; thy heart was away with
thy captor: and not to save my life (were I so base as
to seek it), but to see once more the face of him to whom
this cold hand, in whose veins no pulse answers my
own, had been given, if thy House had consulted its
daughter, wouldst thou have me crouch like a lashed
dog at the feet of my foe! Oh shame! shame! shame!
oh worst perfidy of all ! Oh sharp — sharper than Sax-
on sword or serpent's tooth, is — is — "

Tears gushed to those fierce eyes, and the proud
King dared not trust to his voice.

Aldyth rose coldly. " Slay me if thou wilt — not in-
sult me. I have said, ' Let us die! ' '

With these words, and vouchsafing no look on her
lord, she moved away towards the largest tower or cell,
in which the single and rude chamber it contained had
been set apart for her.

Gryffyth's eye followed her, softening gradually as
her form receded, till lost to his sight. And then that
peculiar household love, which in uncultivated breasts
often survives trust and esteem, rushed back on his
rough heart, and weakened it, as woman only can
weaken the strong to whom Death is a thought of
scorn.

He signed to his bard, who, during the conference

1 The Welch were then, and still are, remarkable for the
beauty of their teeth. Giraldus Cambrensis observes, as some-
thing very extraordinary, that they cleaned them.

HAROLD 313

between wife and lord, had retired to a distance, and
said, with a writhing attempt to smile:

" Was there truth, thinkest thou, in the legend, that
Guenever was false to King Arthur? "

" No," answered the bard, divining his lord's
thought, " for Guenever survived not the King, and
they were buried side by side in the Vale of Avallon."

" Thou art wise in the lore of the heart, and love hath
been thy study from youth to grey hairs. Is it love,
is it hate, that prefers death for the loved one, to the
thought of her life as another's?" A look of the
tenderest compassion passed over the bard's wan face,
but vanished in reverence, as he bowed his head and
answered :

" O King, who shall say what note the wind calls
from the harp, what impulse love wakes in the soul —
now soft and now stern? But," he added, raising his
form, and, with a dread calm on his brow, " but the
love of a king brooks no thought of dishonour; and she
who hath laid her head on his breast should sleep in his
grave."

" Thou wilt outlive me," said Gryffyth, abruptly.
" This earn be my tomb! "

" And if so," said the bard, " thou shalt sleep not
alone. In this earn what thou lovest best shall be
buried by thy side; the bard shall raise his song over
thy grave, and the bosses of shields shall be placed at
intervals, as rises and falls the sound of song. Over
the grave of two shall a new mound arise, and we will
bid the mound speak to others in the fair days to come.
But distant yet be the hour when the mighty shall be
laid low! and the tongue of thy bard may yet chant
the rush of the lion from the toils and the spears.
Hope still!"

314 HAROLD

Gryffyth, for answer, leant on the harper's shoulder,
and pointed silently to the sea, that lay, lake-like at
the distance, dark-studded with the Saxon fleet. Then
turning, his hands stretched over the forms that,
hollow-eyed and ghost-like, flitted between the walls,
or lay dying, but mute around the waterspring. His
hand then dropped, and rested on the hilt of his sword.

At this moment there was a sudden commotion at
the outer entrance of the wall; the crowd gathered to
one spot, and there was a loud hum of voices. In a
few moments one of the Welch scouts came into the
enclosure, and the chiefs of the royal tribes followed
him to the earn on which the King stood.

" Of what tellest thou? " said Gryffyth, resuming on
the instant all the royalty of his bearing.

" At the mouth of the pass," said the scout, kneeling,
" there are a monk bearing the holy rood, and a chief*
unarmed. And the monk is Evan, the Cymrian, of
Gwentland; and the chief, by his voice, seemeth not to
be Saxon. The monk bade me give thee these tokens"
(and the scout displayed the broken torque which the
King had left in the grasp of Harold, together with
a live falcon belled and blinded), " and bade me say
thus to the King: Harold the Earl greets Gryffyth,
son of Llewellyn, and sends him, in proof of good
will, the richest prize he hath ever won from a foe;
and a hawk, from Llandudno; — that bird which chief
and equal give to equal and chief. And he prays
Gryffyth, son of Llewellyn, for the sake of his realm
and his people, to grant hearing to his nuncius."

A murmur broke from the chiefs — a murmur of joy
and surprise from all, save the three conspirators, who
interchanged anxious and fiery glances. Gryffyth's
hand had already closed, while he uttered a cry that

HAROLD 315

seemed of rapture, on the collar of gold; for the loss
of that collar had stung him, perhaps more than the
loss of the crown of all Wales. And his heart, so
generous and large, amidst all its rude passions, was
touched by the speech and the tokens that honoured
the fallen outlaw both as foe and as king. Yet in his
face there was still seen a moody and proud struggle;
he paused before he turned to the chiefs.

" What counsel ye — ye strong in battle, and wise in
debate? " said he.

With one voice all, save the Fatal Three, exclaimed:

" Hear the monk, O King! "

" Shall we dissuade?" whispered Modred to the old
chief, his accomplice.

" No ; for so doing, we shall offend all : — and we
must win all."

Then the bard stepped into the ring. And the ring
was hushed, for wise is ever the counsel of him whose
book is the human heart.

" Hear the Saxons," said he, briefly, and with an air
of command when addressing others, which contrasted
strongly his tender respect to the King; "hear the
Saxons, but not in these walls. Let no man from the
foe see our strength or our weakness. We are still
mighty and impregnable, while our dwelling is in the
realm of the Unknown. Let the King, and his offi-
cers of state, and his chieftains of battle, descend to
the pass. And behind, at the distance, let the spear-
men range from cliff to cliff, as a ladder of steel; so
will their numbers seem the greater."

" Thou speakest well," said the King.

Meanwhile the knight and the monk waited below
at that terrible pass,1 which then lay between moun-

1 I believe it was not till the last century that a good road
took the place of this pass.

316 HAROLD

tain and river, and over which the precipices frowned,
with a sense of horror and weight. Looking up, the
knight murmured:

" With those stones and crags to roll down on a
marching army, the place well defies storm and assault;
and a hundred on the height would overmatch thou-
sands below."

He then turned to address a few words, with all the
far-famed courtesy of Norman and Frank, to the Welch
guards at the outpost. They were picked men; the
strongest and best armed and best fed of the group.
But they shook their heads and answered not, gaz-
ing at him fiercely, and showing their white teeth, as
dogs at a bear before they are loosened from the
band.

"They understand me not, poor languageless sav-
ages!" said Mallet de Graville, turning to the monk,
who stood by with the lifted rood ; " speak to them
in their own jargon."

" Nay," said the Welch monk, who, though of a rival
tribe from South Wales, and at the service of Harold,
was esteemed throughout the land for piety and learn-
ing, " they will not open mouth till the King's orders
come to receive or dismiss us unheard."

"Dismiss us unheard!" repeated the punctilious
Norman ; " even this poor barbarous King can scarcely
be so strange to all comely and gentle usage, as to put
such insult on Guillaume Mallet de Graville. But,"
added the knight, colouring, " I forgot that he is not ad-
vised of my name and land; and, indeed, sith thou art
to be spokesman, I marvel why Harold should have
prayed my service at all, at the risk of subjecting a
Norman knight to affronts contumelious."

" Peradventure," replied Evan, " peradventure thou

HAROLD 317

hast something to whisper apart to the King, which, as
stranger and warrior, none will venture to question;
but which from me, as countryman and priest, would
excite the jealous suspicions of those around him."

"I conceive thee," said De Graville. "And see,
spears are gleaming down the path ; and per pedes Dom-
ini, yon chief with the mantle, and circlet of gold on his
head, is the cat-king that so spitted and scratched in
the melee last night."

"Heed well thy tongue," said Evan, alarmed; "no
jests with the leader of men."

" Knowest thou, good monk, that a facete and most
Dentil Roman (if the saintly writer from whom I take the
citation reports aright — for, alas! I know not where
myself to purchase, or to steal, one copy of Horatius
Flaccus) hath said 'Duke est desipere in loco' It is
sweet to jest, but not within reach of claws, whether
of kaisars or cats."

Therewith the knight drew up his spare but stately
figure, and arranging his robe with grace and dignity,
awaited the coming chief.

Down the paths, one by one, came first the chiefs,
privileged by birth to attend the King; and each, as
he reached the mouth of the pass, drew on the upper
side among the stones of the rough ground. Then a
banner, tattered and torn, with the lion ensign that the
Welch princes had substituted for the old national
dragon, which the Saxon of Wessex had appropriated
to themselves,1 preceded the steps of the King. Be-

1 The Saxons of Wessex seem to have adopted the Dragon
for their ensign, from an early period. It was probably for
this reason that it was assumed bv Edward Ironsides, as the
hero of the Saxons; the principality of Wessex forming the
most important portion of the pure Saxon race, while its
founder was the ancestor of the imperial house of the Basileus

318 HAROLD

hind him came his falconer and bard, and the rest of
his scanty household. The King halted in the pass,
a few steps from the Norman knight; and Mallet de
Graville, though accustomed to the majestic mien of
Duke William, and the practised state of the princes
of France and Flanders, felt an involuntary thrill of ad-
miration at the bearing of the great child of Nature with
his foot on his father's soil.

Small and slight as was his stature, worn and ragged
his mantle of state, there was that in the erect mien and
steady eye of the Cymrian hero, which showed one con-
scious of authority, and potent in will; and the wave of
his hand to the knight was the gesture of a prince on
his throne. Nor, indeed, was that brave and ill-fated
chief without some irregular gleams of mental culti-
vation, which under happier auspices, might have cen-
tred into steadfast light. Though the learning which
had once existed in Wales (the last legacy of Rome)
had long since expired in broil and blood, and youths
no longer flocked to the colleges of Caerleon, and
priests no longer adorned the casuistical theology of
the age, Gryffyth himself, the son of a wise and famous
father,1 had received an education beyond the average
of Saxon kings. But, intensely national, his mind had

of Britain. The dragon seems also to have been a Norman
ensign. The lions or leopards, popularly assigned to the Con-
queror, are certainly a later invention. There is no appearance
of them on the banners and shields of the Norman army in
the Bayeux tapestry. Armorial bearings were in use amongst
the Welch, and even the Saxons, long before heraldry was
reduced to a science by the Franks and Normans. And the
dragon, which is supposed by many critics to be borrowed
from the east, through the Saracens, certainly existed as an
armorial ensign with the Cymrians before they could have had
any obligation to the songs and legends of that people.

1 " In whose time the earth brought forth double, and there
was neither beggar nor poor man from the North to the South
Sea." — POWELL'S Hist, of Wales, p. 83.

HAROLD 319

turned from all other literature, to the legends, and
songs, and chronicles of his land; and if he is the best
scholar who best understands his own tongue and its
treasures, Gryffyth was the most erudite prince of his
age.

His natural talents, for war especially, were consid-
erable ; and judged fairly — not as mated with an empty
treasury, without other army than the capricious will
of his subjects afforded, and amidst his bitterest foes
in the jealous chiefs of his own country, against the dis-
ciplined force and comparative civilisation of the Saxon
— but as compared with all the other princes of Wales,
in warfare, to which he was habituated, and in which
chances were even, the fallen son of Llewellyn had been
the most renowned leader that Cymry had known since
the death of the great Roderic.

So there he stood; his attendants ghastly with fam-
ine, drawn up on the unequal ground; above, on the
heights, and rising from the stone crags, long lines of
spears artfully placed; and, watching him with death-
ful eyes, somewhat in his rear, the Traitor Three.

" Speak, father, or chief," said the Welch King in his
native tongue; "what would Harold the Earl of
Gryffyth the King? "

Then the monk took up the word and spoke.

" Health to Gryffyth-ap-Llewellyn, his chiefs and his
people! Thus saith Harold, King Edward's thegn: By
land all the passes are watched; by sea all the waves
are our own. Our swords rest in our sheaths; but
famine marches each hour to gride and to slay. In-
stead of sure death from the hunger, take sure life from
the foe. Free pardon to all, chiefs and people, and safe
return to their homes, — save Gryffyth alone. Let him
come forth, not as victim and outlaw, not with bent form

320 HAROLD

and clasped hands, but as chief meeting chief, with his
household of state. Harold will meet him, in honour,
at the gates of the fort. Let Gryffyth submit to King
Edward, and ride with Harold to the Court of Basileus.
Harold promises him life, and will plead for his pardon.
And though the peace of this realm, and the fortune
of war, forbid Harold to say, ' Thou shalt yet be a
king; ' yet thy crown, son of Llewellyn, shall at least
be assured in the line of thy fathers, and the race of
Cadwallader shall still reign in Cymry."

The monk paused, and hope and joy were in the faces
of the famished chiefs ; while two of the Traitor Three
suddenly left their post, and sped to tell the message
to the spearmen and multitudes above. Modred, the
third conspirator, laid his hand on his hilt, and stole
near to see the face of the King; — the face of the King
was dark and angry, as a midnight of storm.

Then, raising the cross on high, Evan resumed.

" And I, though of the people of Gwentland, which
the arms of Gryffyth have wasted, and whose prince
fell beneath Gryffyth's sword on the hearth of his hall
— I, as God's servant, the brother of all I behold, and,
as son of the soil, mourning over the slaughter of its
latest defenders — I, by this symbol of love and com-
mand, which I raise to the heaven, adjure thee, O
King, to give ear to the mission of peace, — to cast down
the grim pride of earth. And instead of the crown of
a day, fix thy hopes on the crown everlasting. For
much shall be pardoned to thee in thine hour of
pomp and of conquest, if now thou savest from doom
and from death the last lives over which thou art
lord."

It was during this solemn appeal that the knight,
marking the sign announced to him, and drawing close

HAROLD 321

to Gryffyth, pressed the ring into the King's hand, and
whispered:

" Obey by this pledge. Thou knowest Harold is
true, and thy head is sold by thine own people."

The King cast a haggard eye at the speaker, and
then at the ring, over which his hand closed with a
convulsive spasm. And at that dread instant the man
prevailed over the King; and far away from people and
monk, from adjuration and duty, fled his heart on the
wings of the storm — fled to the cold wife he distrusted:
and the pledge that should assure him of life, seemed
as a love-token insulting his fall: — Amidst all the roar
of roused passions, loudest of all was the hiss of the
jealous fiend.

As the monk ceased, the thrill of the audience was
perceptible, and a deep silence was followed by a gen-
eral murmur, as if to constrain the King.

Then the pride of the despot chief rose up to second
the wrath of the suspecting man. The red spot flushed
the dark cheek, and he tossed the neglected hair from
his brow.

He made one stride towards the monk, and said, in
a voice loud, and deep, and slow, rolling far up the hill:

" Monk, thou hast said ; and now hear the reply of
the son of Llewellyn, the true heir of Roderic the Great,
who from the heights of Eryri saw all the lands of the
Cymrian sleeping under the dragon of Uther. King
was I born, and king will I die. I will not ride by the
side of the Saxon to the feet of Edward, the son of the
spoiler. I will not, to purchase base life, surrender the
claim, vain before men and the hour, but solemn before
God and posterity — the claim of my line and my people.
All Britain is ours — all the island of Pines. And the
VOL. I. — ai

322 HAROLD

children of Hengist are traitors and rebels — not the
heirs of Ambrosius and Uther. Say to Harold the
Saxon, Ye have left us but the tomb of the Druid and
the hills of the eagle; but freedom and royalty are ours,
in life and in death — not for you to demand them, not
for us to betray. Nor fear ye, O my chiefs, few, but
unmatched in glory and truth; fear not ye to perish by
the hunger thus denounced as our doom, on these
heights that command the fruits of our own fields!
No, die we may, but not mute and revengeless. Go
back, whispering warrior; go back, false son of Cymry
— and tell Harold to look well to his walls and his
trenches. We will vouchsafe him grace for his grace —
we will not take him by surprise, nor under cloud of
the night. With the gleam of our spears and the clash
of our shields, we will come from the hill: and, famine-
worn as he deems us, hold a feast in his walls which the
eagles of Snowdon spread their pinions to share ! "

" Rash man and unhappy! " cried the monk; " what
curse drawest thou down on thy head! Wilt thou be
the murtherer of thy men, in strife unavailing and
vain? Heaven holds thee guilty of all the blood thou
shalt cause to be shed."

"Be dumb! — hush thy screech, lying raven!" ex-
claimed Gryffyth, his eyes darting fire and his slight
form dilating. " Once, priest and monk w^nt before us
to inspire, not to daunt; and our cry Alleluia! was
taught us by the saints of the Church, on the day when
Saxons, fierce and many as Harold's, fell on the field
of Maes-Garmon. No, the curse is on the head of the
invader, not on those who defend hearth and altar.
Yea, as the song to the bard, the CURSE leaps through
my veins, and rushes forth from my lips. By the land
they have ravaged ; by the gore they have spilt ; on these

HAROLD 323

crags, our last refuge ; below the earn on yon heights,
where the Dead stir to hear me, — I launch the curse of
the wronged and the doomed on the children of Hen-
gist ! They in turn shall know the steel of the stranger
— their crown shall be shivered as glass, and their no-
bles be as slaves in the land. And the line of Hengist
and Cerdic shall be rased from the roll of empire. And
the ghosts of our fathers shall glide, appeased, over the
grave of their nation. But we — WE, though weak in
the body, in the soul shall be strong to the last! The
ploughshare may pass over our cities, but the soil shall
be trod by our steps, and our deeds keep our language
alive in the songs of our bards. Nor in, the great
Judgment Day, shall any race but the race of Cymry
rise from their graves in this corner of earth, to answer
for the sins of the brave ! " l

So impressive the voice, so grand the brow, and sub-
lime the wild gesture of the King, as he thus spoke,
that not only the monk himself was awed; not only,
though he understood not the words, did the Norman
knight bow his head, as a child when the lightning he
fears as by instinct flashes out from the cloud, — but even
the sullen and wide-spreading discontent at work

1 " During the military expeditions made in our days against
South Wales, an old Welchman. at Pencadair, who had faith-
fully adhered to him (Henry II.), being desired to give his
opinion about the royal army, and whether he thought that of
the rebels would make resistance, and what he thought would
' be the final event of this war, replied : ' This nation, O King,
may now, as in former times, be harassed, and. in a great
measure, be weakened and destroyed by you and other powers :
and it will often prevail by its laudable exertions, but it can
never be totally subdued by the wrath of man, unless the wrath
of God shall concur. Nor do I think that any other nation
than this of Wales, or any other language (whatever may here-
after come to pass), shall in the day of severe examination
before the Supreme Judge atlswer for this corner of tht
earth!'" — HOARE'S Giraldus Cambrensis, vol. i. p. 361.

324 HAROLD

among most of the chiefs was arrested for a moment.
But the spearmen and multitude above, excited by the
tidings of safety to life, and worn out by repeated de-
feat, and the dread fear of famine, too remote to hear
the King, were listening eagerly to the insidious ad-
dresses of the two stealthy conspirators, creeping from
rank to rank; and already they began to sway and
move, and sweep slowly down towards the King.

Recovering his surprise, the Norman again neared
Gryffyth, and began to re-urge his mission of peace.
But the chief waved him back sternly, and said aloud,
though in Saxon:

" No secrets can pass between Harold and me.
This much alone, take thou back as answer: I thank the
Earl, for myself, my Queen, and my people. Noble
have been his courtesies, as foe; as foe I thank him — as
king, defy. The torque he hath returned to my hand,
he shall see again ere the sun set. Messengers, ye are
answered. Withdraw, and speed fast, that we may pass
not your steps on the road."

The monk sighed, and cast a look of holy compassion
over the circle; and a pleased man was he to see in the
faces of most there, that the King was alone in his
fierce defiance. Then lifting again the rood, he turned
away, and with him went the Norman.

The retirement of the messengers was the signal for
one burst of remonstrance from the chiefs — the signal
for the voice and the deeds of the Fatal Three. Down
from the heights sprang and rushed the angry and tur-
bulent multitudes; round the King came the bard and
the falconer, and some faithful few.

The great uproar of many voices caused the monk
and the knight to pause abruptly in their descent, and

HAROLD 325

turn to look behind. They could see the crowd rush-
ing down from the higher steeps; but on the spot it-
self which they had so lately left, the nature of the
ground only permitted a confused view of spear points,
lifted swords, and heads crowned with shaggy locks,
swaying to and fro.

" What means all this commotion? " asked the
knight, with his hand on his sword.

"Hist!" said the monk, pale as ashes, and leaning
for support upon the cross.

Suddenly, above the hubbub, was heard the voice of
the King, in accents of menace and wrath, singularly
distinct and clear; it was followed by a moment's si-
lence— a moment's silence followed by the clatter of
arms, a yell, and a howl, and the indescribable shock
of men.

And suddenly again was heard a voice that seemed
that of the King, but no longer distinct and clear! —
was it laugh? — was it groan?

All was hushed; the monk was on his knees in
prayer; the knight's sword was bare in his hand. All
was hushed — and the spears stood still in the air; when
there was again a cry, as multitudinous, but less sav-
age than before. And the Welch came down the pass,
and down the crags.

The knight placed his back to a rock. " They have
orders to murther us," he murmured; " but woe to the
first who come within reach of my sword! "

Down swarmed the Welchmen, nearer and nearer;
and in the midst of them three chiefs — the Fatal Three.
And the old chief bore in his hand a pole or spear, and
on the top of that spear, trickling gore step by step,
was the trunkless head of Gryffyth the King.

326 HAROLD

" This," said the old chief, as he drew near, " this is
our answer to Harold the Earl. We will go with ye."

" Food! food! " cried the multitude.

And the three chiefs (one on either side the trunkless
head that the third bore aloft) whispered, " We are
avenged ! "

NOTES

NOTE (A), PAGE 15.

There are various accounts in the Chroniclers as to the
stature of William the First; some represent him as a giant,
others as of just or middle height. Considering the vulgar
inclination to attribute to a hero's stature the qualities of the
mind (and putting out of all question the arguments that rest
on the pretended size of the disburied bones — for which the
authorities are really less respectable than those on which we
are called upon to believe that the skeleton of the mythical
Gawaine measured eight feet), we prefer that supposition, as
to the physical proportions, which is most in harmony with the
usual laws of Nature. It is rare, indeed, that a great intellect
is found in the form of a giant.

NOTE (B), PAGE 30.
Game Laws before the Conquest.

Under the Saxon kings a man might, it is true, hunt in his
own grounds, but that was a privilege that could benefit few
but thegns ; and over cultivated ground or shire-land there
was not the same sport to be found as in the vast wastes called
forest-land, and which mainly belonged to the kings.

Edward declares, in a law recorded in a volume of the Ex-
chequer, " I will that all men do abstain from hunting in my
woods, and that my will shall be obeyed under penalty of
life." i

Edgar, the darling monarch of the monks, and, indeed, one
of the most popular of the Anglo-Saxon kings, was so rigor-
ous in his forest-laws that the thegns murmured as well as

1 Thomson's Essay on Magna Charta.
327

328 HAROLD

the lower husbandmen, who had been accustomed to use the
woods for pasturage and boscage. Canute's forest-laws were
meant as a liberal concession to public feeling on the subject;
they are more definite than Edgar's, but terribly stringent; if
a freeman killed one of the king's deer, or struck his forester,
he lost his freedom and became a penal serf (white theowe)
— that is, he ranked with felons. Nevertheless, Canute allowed
bishops, abbots, and thegns to hunt in his woods — a privilege
restored by Henry III. The nobility, after the Conquest, being
excluded from the royal chases, petitioned to enclose parks,
as early even as the reign of William I. ; and by the time of
his son, Henry I., parks became so common as to be at once
a ridicule and a grievance.

NOTE (C), PAGE 37.
Belin's Gate.

Verstegan combats the Welsh antiquaries who would ap-
propriate this gate to the British deity Bal or Beli ; and says,
if so, it would not have been called by a name half Saxon, half
British, gate (geat) being Saxon; but rather Belinsport than
Belinsgate. This is no very strong argument; for, in the
Norman time, many compound words were half Norman, half
Saxon. But, in truth, Belin was a Teuton deity, whose wor-
ship pervaded all Gaul ; and the Saxons might either have
continued, therefore, the name they found, or given it them-
selves from their own god. I am not inclined, however, to
contend that any deity, Saxon or British, gave the name, or
that Billing is not, after all, the right orthography. Billing,
like all words ending in ing, has something very Danish in its
sound ; and the name is quite as likely to have been given by
the Danes as by the Saxons.

NOTE (D), PAGE 41.

Vineyards in England.

The question whether or not real vineyards were grown, or
real wine made from them, in England has been a very vexed
question among the antiquaries. But it is scarcely possible to
read Pegge's dispute with Daines Barrington in the Arenas-

HAROLD 329

ologra without deciding both questions in the affirmative. — See
Archceol. vol. iii. p. 53. An engraving of the Saxon wine-press
is given in STRUTT'S Horda. Vineyards fell into disuse, either
by treaty with France, or Gascony falling into the hands of the
English. But vineyards were cultivated by private gentlemen
as late as 1621. Our first wines from Bordeaux — the true
country of Bacchus — appear to have been imported about 1154,
by the marriage of Henry II. with Eleanor of Aquitaine.

NOTE (E), PAGES 75, 84.
Lanfranc, the first Anglo-Norman Archbishop of Canterbury.

Lanfranc was, in all respects, one of the most remarkable
men of the eleventh century. He was born in Pavia, about
1105. His family was noble — his father ranked amongst the
magistrature of Pavia, the Lombard capital. From his earliest
youth he gave himself up, with all a scholar's zeal, to the
liberal arts, and the special knowledge of law, civil and ec-
clesiastical. He studied at Cologne, and afterwards taught and
practised law in his own country. " While yet extremely
young," says one of the lively chroniclers, " he triumphed over
the ablest advocates, and the torrents of his eloquence con-
founded the subtlest rhetorician." His decisions were received
as authorities by the Italian jurisconsults and tribunals. His
mind, to judge both by his history and his peculiar reputation
(for probably few, if any, students of our day can pretend to
more than a partial or superficial acquaintance with his writ-
ings), was one that delighted in subtleties and casuistical
refinements ; but a sense too large and commanding for those
studies which amuse but never satisfy the higher intellect,
became disgusted betimes with mere legal dialectics. Those
grand and absorbing mysteries connected with the Christian
faith and the Roman Church (grand and absorbing in propor-
tion as their premises are taken by religious belief as mathe-
matical axioms already proven) seized hold of his imagination,
and tasked to the depth his inquisitive reason. The Chronicle
of Knyghton cites an interesting anecdote of his life at this,
its important, crisis. He had retired to a solitary spot, beside
the Seine, to meditate on the mysterious essence of the Trinity,
when he saw a boy ladling out the waters of the river that

330 HAROLD

ran before him into a little well. His curiosity arrested, he
asked "what the boy proposed to do?" The boy replied,
" To empty yon deep into this well." " That canst thou never
do," said the scholar. " Nor canst thou," answered the boy,
" exhaust the deep on which thou dost meditate into the well
of thy reason." Therewith the speaker vanished, and Lan-
franc, resigning the hope to achieve the mighty mystery, threw
himself at once into the arms of faith, and took his refuge in
the monastery of Bee.

The tale may be a legend, but not an idle one. Perhaps he
related it himself as a parable, and by the fiction explained the
process of thought that decided his career. In the prime of
his manhood, about 1042, when he was thirty-seven years old,
and in the zenith of his scholarly fame, he professed. The
Convent of Bee had been lately founded, under Herluin, the
first abbot; there Lanfranc opened a school, which became
one of the most famous throughout the west of Europe. In-
deed, under the Lombard's influence, the then obscure Convent
of Bee, to which the solitude of the site and the poverty of
the endowment allured his choice, grew the Academe of the
age. " It was," says Oderic, in his charming chronicle, " it
was under such a master that the Normans received their first
notions of literature; from that school emerged the multitude
of eloquent philosophers who adorned alike divinity and sci-
ence. From France, Gascony, Bretagne, Flanders, scholars
thronged to receive his lessons." *

At first, as superficially stated in the tale, Lanfranc had
taken part against the marriage of William with Matilda of
Flanders — a marriage clearly contrary to the formal canons of
the Roman Church, and was banished by the fiery Duke ;
though William's displeasure gave way at " the decent joke "
(jocus decens), recorded in the text. At Rome, however, his
influence, arguments, and eloquence were all enlisted on the
side of William : and it was to the scholar of Pavia that the
great Norman owed the ultimate sanction of his marriage, and
the repeal of the interdict that excommunicated his realm.2

1 Orderic. Vital, lib. 4.

2 The date of William's marriage has been variously stated
in English and Norman history, but is usually fixed in 1051-2.
M. Pluquet, however, in a note to his edition of the " Roman
de Rou," says that the only authority for the date of (hat

HAROLD 331

At Rome he assisted in the council held 1059 (the year
wherein the ban of the Church was finally and formally taken
from Normandy), at which the famous Berenger, Archdeacon
of Angers (against whom he had waged a polemical contro-
versy that did more than all else to secure his repute at the
Pontifical Court), abjured "his heresies" as to the Real
Presence in the sacrament of the Eucharist.

In 1062, or 1063, Duke William, against the Lombard's own
will (for Lanfranc genuinely loved the liberty of letters more
than vulgar power), raised him to the abbacy of St. Stephen
of Caen. From that time, his ascendancy over his haughty
lord was absolute. The contemporary historian (William of
Poitiers), says that " William respected him as a father, ven-
erated him as a preceptor, and cherished him as a brother or
son." He confided to him his own designs; and committed
to him the entire superintendence of the ecclesiastical orders
throughout Normandy. Eminent no less for his practical
genius in affairs, than for his rare piety and theological learn-
ing, Lanfranc attained indeed to the true ideal of the Scholar;
to whom, of all men, nothing that is human should be for-
eign ; whose closet is but a hermit's cell, unless it is the
microcosm that embraces the mart and the forum ; who by
the reflective part of his nature seizes the higher region of
philosophy — by the energetic, is attracted to the central focus
of action. For scholarship is but the parent of ideas ; and
ideas are the parents of action.

After the conquest, as prelate of Canterbury, Lanfranc be-
came the second man in the kingdom — happy, perhaps, for
England had he been the first ; for all the anecdotes recorded
of him show a deep and genuine sympathy with the oppressed
population. But William the King of the English escaped
from the control which Lanfranc had imposed on the Duke
of the Normans. The scholar had strengthened the aspirer;
he could only imperfectly influence the conqueror.

Lanfranc was not, it is true, a faultless character. He was
a priest, a lawyer, and a man of the world — three characters

marriage is in the Chronicle of Tours, and it is there referred
to 1053. It would seem that the Papal excommunication was
not actually taken off till 1059: nor the formal dispensation
for the marriage granted till 1063.

332 HAROLD

hard to amalgamate into perfection, especially in the eleventh
century. But he stands in gigantic and brilliant contrast to
the rest of our priesthood in his own day, both in the supe-
riority of his virtues, and in his exemption from the ordinary
vices. He regarded the cruelties of Odo of Bayeux with de-
testation, opposed him with firmness, and ultimately, to the
joy of all England, ruined his power. He gave a great impetus
to learning ; he set a high example to his monks, in his free-
dom from the mercenary sins of their order; he laid the
foundations of a powerful and splendid church, which, only
because it failed in future Lanfrancs, failed in effecting the
civilisation of which he designed it to be the instrument. He
refused to crown William Rufus, until that king had sworn
to govern according to law and to right ; and died, though a
Norman usurper, honoured and beloved by the Saxon people.
Scholar, and morning star of light in the dark age of force
and fraud, it is easier to praise thy life, than to track through
the length of centuries all the measureless and invisible benefits
which the life of one scholar bequeaths to the world — in the
souls it awakens — in the thoughts it suggests ! 1

NOTE (F), PAGE 87.

Edward the Confessor's reply to Magnus of Denmark who
claimed his Crown.

On rare occasions Edward was not without touches of a
brave kingly nature.

Snorro Sturleson gives us a noble and spirited reply of the
Confessor to Magnus, who, as heir of Canute, claimed the
English crown; it concludes thus: — " Now, he (Hardicanute)
died, and then it was the resolution of all the people of the
country to take me, for the king here in England. So long as
I had no kingly title I served my superiors in all respects, like
those who had no claims by birth to land or kingdom. Now,
however, I have received the kingly title, and am consecrated
king; I have established my royal dignity and authority, as

1 For authorities for the above sketch, and for many inter-
esting details of Lanfranc's character, see Orderic. Vital. Hen.
de Knyghton, lib. ii. Gervasius; and the life of Lanfranc, to
be found in the collection of bis Works, &c.

HAROLD 333

my father before me ; and while I live I will not renounce my
title. If King Magnus comes here with an army, I will gather
no army against him ; but he shall only get the opportunity
of taking England when he has taken my life. Tell him these
words of mine." If we may consider this reply to be authentic,
it is significant, as proof that Edward rests his title on the
resolution of the people to take him for king; and counts as
nothing, in comparison, his hereditary claims. This, together
with the general tone of the reply, particularly the passage in
which he implies that he trusts his defence not to his army
but his people — makes it probable that Godwin dictated the
answer; and, indeed, Edward himself could not have couched
it, either in Saxon or Danish. But the King is equally en-
titled to the credit of it, whether he composed it, or whether
he merely approved and sanctioned its gallant tone and its
princely sentiment.

NOTE (G), PAGE 90.
Heralds.

So much of the " pride, pomp, and circumstance " which
invest the Age of Chivalry is borrowed from these companions
of princes, and blazoners of noble deeds, that it may interest
the reader, if I set briefly before him what our best antiquaries
have said as to their first appearance in our own history.

Camden (somewhat, I fear, too rashly) says, that "their
reputation, honour, and name began in the time of Charle-
magne." The first mention of heralds in England occurs in
the reign of Edward III., a reign in which Chivalry was at
its dazzling zenith. Whitlock says, " that some derive the
name of Herald from Hereauld," a Saxon word (old soldier,
or old master), "because anciently they were chosen from
veteran soldiers." Joseph Holland says, " I find that Malcolm,
King of Scots, sent a herald unto William the Conqueror, to
treat of a peace, when both armies were in order of battle."
Agard affirms, that " at the conquest there was no practice of
heraldry ; " and observes truly, " that the Conqueror used a
monk for his messenger to King Harold."

To this I may add. that monks or priests also fulfil the
office of heralds in the old French and Norman Chronicles.
Thus Charles the Simple s«*ids an archbishop to treat with

334 HAROLD

Rolfganger; Louis the Debonnair sends to Mormon, chief of
the Bretons, " a sage and prudent abbot." But in the Saxon
times, the nuncius (a word still used in heraldic Latin) was
in the regular service both of the King and the great Earls.
The Saxon name for such a messenger was bode, and when
employed in hostile negotiations, he was styled warbode. The
messengers between Godwin and the King would seem, by
the general sense of the chronicles, to have been certain thegns
acting as mediators.

NOTE (H), PAGE 126.
The Fylgia, or Tutelary Spirit.

This lovely superstition in the Scandinavian belief is the
more remarkable because it does not appear in the creed of the
Germanic Teutons, and is closely allied with the good angel,
or guardian genius, of the Persians. It forms, therefore, one
of the arguments that favour the Asiatic origin of the Norse-
men.

The Fylgia (following, or attendant, spirit) was always rep-
resented as a female. Her influence was not uniformly
favourable, though such was its general characteristic. She
was capable of revenge if neglected, but had the devotion of
her sex when properly treated. Mr. Grenville Pigott, in his
popular work, entitled " A Manual of Scandinavian Mythol-
ogy," relates an interesting legend with respect to one of these
supernatural ladies : —

A Scandinavian warrior, Halfred Vandraedakald, having em-
braced Christianity, and being attacked by a disease which he
thought mortal, was naturally anxious that a spirit who had
accompanied him through his pagan career should not attend
him into that other world, where her society might involve
him in disagreeable consequences. The persevering Fylgia,
however, in the shape of a fair maiden, walked on the waves
of the sea after her viking's ship. She came thus in sight of
all the crew ; and Halfred, recognising his Fylgia, told her
point blank that their connection was at an end for ever. The
forsaken Fylgia had a high spirit of her own, and she then
asked Thorold " if he would take her." Thorold ungallantly
refused ; but Halfred the younger .said, " Maiden, I will take
thee." V

1 Pigott's Scand. Mythol. p. 360. Half. Vand. Saga.

HAROLD 335

In the various Norse Saga there are many anecdotes of
these spirits, who are always charming, because, with their
less earthly attributes, they always blend something of the
woman. The poetry embodied in their existence is of a softer
and more humane character than that common with the stern
and vast demons of the Scandinavian mythology.

NOTE (I), PAGE 135.
The Origin of Earl Godwin.

Sharon Turner quotes from the Knytlinga Saga what he
calls " an explanation of Godwin's career or parentage, which
no other document affords ; " viz. — " that Ulf, a Danish chief,
after the battle of Skorstein, between Canute and Edmund
Ironsides, pursued the English fugitives into a wood, lost his
way, met, on the morning, a Saxon youth driving cattle to
their pasture, asked him to direct him in safety to Canute's
ships, and offered him the bribe of a gold ring for his guidance ;
the young herdsman refused the bribe, but sheltered the Dane
in the cottage of his father (who is represented as a mere
peasant), and conducted him the next morning to the Danish
camp ; previously to which, the youth's father represented to
Ulf, that his son, Godwin, could never, after aiding a Dane
to escape, rest in safety with his countrymen, and besought
him to befriend his son's fortunes with Canute." The Dane
promised, and kept his word ; hence Godwin's rise. Thierry,
in his " History of the Norman Conquest," tells the same story,
on the authority of Torfaeus, Hist. Rer. Norweg. Now I need
not say to any scholar in our early history, that the Norse
Chronicles, abounding with romance and legend, are never to
be received as authorities counter to our own records, though
occasionally valuable to supply omissions in the latter; and,
unfortunately for this pretty story, we have against it the
direct statements of the very best authorities we possess, viz.
The Saxon Chronicle and Florence of Worcester. The Saxon
Chronicle expressly tells us that Godwin's father was Childe
of Sussex (Florence calls him minister or thegn of Sussex *),
and that Wolnoth was nephew to Edric, the all-powerful Earl

1 " Suthsaxonum Ministrum Wolfnothem." Flor. Wig.

336 HAROLD

or Duke of Mercia. Florence confirms this statement, and
gives the pedigree, which may be deduced as follows :

I I

Edric married Egelric,

Edgith, daughter of surnamed Leofwine

King Ethelred II. |

Egelmar,

Wolnoth.
Godwin.

Thus this " old peasant," as the North Chronicles call Wol-
noth, was, according to our most unquestionable authorities,
a thegn of one of the most important divisions in England,
and a member of the most powerful family in the kingdom!
Now, if our Saxon authorities needed any aid from probabili-
ties, it is scarcely worth asking, which is the more probable,
that the son of a Saxon herdsman should in a few years rise
to such power as to marry the sister of the royal Danish Con-
queror— or that that honour should be conferred on the most
able member of a house already allied to Saxon royalty, and
which evidently retained its power after the fall of its head,
the treacherous Edric Streone ! Even after the Conquest,
one of Streone's nephews, Edricus Sylvaticus, is mentioned
(Simon. Dunelm.) as "a very powerful thegn." Upon the
whole, the account given of Godwin's rise in the text of the
work appears the most correct that conjectures, based on our
scanty historical information, will allow.

In 1009 A.D., Wolnoth, the Childe or Thegn of Sussex, de-
feats the fleets of Ethelred, under his uncle Brightric, and
goes therefore into rebellion. Thus when, in 1014 (five years
afterwards), Canute is chosen king by all the fleet, it is prob-
able that Wolnoth and Godwin, his son, espoused his cause ;
and that Godwin, subsequently presented to Canute as a young
noble of great promise, was favoured by that sagacious king,
and ultimately honoured with the hand, first of his sister,
secondly of his niece, as a mode of conciliating the Saxon
thegns.

HAROLD 337

NOTE (K), PAGE 276.
The want of Fortresses in England.

The Saxons were sad destroyers. They destroyed the
strongholds which the Briton had received from the Roman,
and built very few others. Thus the land was left open to the
Danes. Alfred, sensible of this defect, repaired the walls of
London and other cities, and urgently recommended his nobles
and prelates to build fortresses, but could not persuade them.
His great-souled daughter, Elfleda, was the only imitator of
his example. She built eight castles in three years.1

It was thus that in a country, in which the general features
do not allow of protracted warfare, the inhabitants were always
at the hazard of a single pitched battle. Subsequent to the
Conquest, in the reign of John, it was, in truth, the strong
castle of Dover, on the siege of which Prince Louis lost so
much time, that saved the realm of England from passing to
a French dynasty : and as, in later periods, strongholds fell
again into decay, so it is remarkable to observe how easily the
country was overrun after any signal victory of one of the
contending parties. In this truth, the Wars of the Roses
abound with much instruction. The handful of foreign mer-
cenaries with which Henry VII. won his crown, — though the
real heir, the Earl of Warwick (granting Edward IV.'s chil-
dren to be illegitimate, which they clearly were according to
the rites of the Church), had never lost his claim, by the
defeat of Richard at Bosworth ; — the march of the Pretender
to Derby, — the dismay it spread throughout England, — and the
certainty of his conquest had he proceeded ; — the easy victory
of William III. at a time when certainly the bulk of the nation
was opposed to his cause; — are all facts pregnant with warn-
ings, to which we are as blind as we were in the days of
Alfred.

NOTE (L), PAGE 305.

The Ruins of Penmaen-mawr.

In Camden's Britannia there is an account of the remark-
able relics assigned, in the text, to the last refuge of Gryffyth

1 Asser. de Reb. G«st. Alf. pp. 17, 18.
VOL. I.— 22

338 HAROLD

ap Llewellyn, taken from a manuscript by Sir John Wynne
in the time of Charles I. In this account are minutely de-
scribed, " ruinous walls of an exceeding strong fortification,
compassed with a treble wall, and, within each wall, the foun-
dations of at least one hundred towers, about six yards in
diameter within the walls. This castle seems (while it stood)
impregnable ; there being no way to offer any assault on it,
the hill being so very high, steep, and rocky, and the walls
of such strength, — the way or entrance into it ascending with
many turnings, so that one hundred men might defend them-
selves against a whole legion ; and yet it should seem that
there were lodgings within those walls for twenty thousand
men.

" By the tradition we receive from our ancestors, this was
the strongest refuge, or place of defence, that the ancient
Britons had in all Snowdon ; moreover, the greatness of the
work shows that it was a princely fortification, strengthened
by nature and workmanship." l

But in the year 1771, Governor Pownall ascended Penmaen-
mawr, inspected these remains, and published his account in
the Archaeologia, vol. iii. p. 303, with a sketch both of the
mount and the walls at the summit. The Governor is of
opinion that it never was a fortification. He thinks that the
inward inclosure contained a earn (or arch-Druid's sepulchre),
that there is not room for any lodgment, that the walls are
not of a kind which can form a cover, and give at the same
time the advantage of fighting from them. In short, that the
place was one of the Druids' consecrated high places of wor-
ship. He adds, however, that " Mr. Pennant has gone twice
over it, intends to make an actual survey, and anticipates much
from that great antiquary's knowledge and accuracy."

We turn next to Mr. Pennant, and we find him giving a flat
contradiction to the Governor. " I have more than once," 2
says he, " visited this noted rock, to view the fortifications
described by the editor of Camden, from some notes of that
sensible old baronet, Sir John Wynne, of Gwidir, and have
found his account very just.

" The fronts of three, if not four walls, presented themselves

. 1 Camden, Caernarvonshire.
2 Pennant's Wales, vol. ii. p. 146.

HAROLD 339

very distinctly one above the other. I measured the height
of one wall, which was at the time nine feet, the thickness
seven feet and a half." (Now, Governor Pownall also meas-
ured the walls, agrees pretty well with Pennant as to their
width, but makes them only five feet high.) " Between these
walls, in all parts, were innumerable small buildings, mostly
circular. These had been much higher, as is evident from the
fall of stones which lie scattered at their bottoms, and probably
had once the form of towers, as Sir John asserts. Their
diameter is, in general, from twelve to eighteen feet (ample
room here for lodgment) ; the walls were in certain places
intersected with others equally strong. This stronghold of the
Britons is exactly of the same kind with those on Cam Madryn,
Carn Boduan, and Tre'r Caer.

" This was most judiciously chosen to cover the passage into
Anglesea, and the remoter part of their country ; and must,
from its vast strength, have been invulnerable, except by fam-
ine ; being inaccessible by its natural steepness towards the
sea, and on the parts fortified in the manner described." So
far, Pennant versus Pownall ! " Who shall decide when doc-
tors disagree ? " The opinion of both these antiquarians is
liable to demur. Governor Pownall might probably be a better
judge of military defences than Pennant; but he evidently
forms his notions of defence with imperfect knowledge of the
forts, which would have amply sufficed for the warfare of the
ancient Britons ; and moreover, he was one of those led astray
by Bryant's crotchets as to " High places," &c. What appears
most probable is, that the place was both earn and fort; that
the strength of the place, and the convenience of stones, sug-
gested the surrounding the narrow area of the central sepul-
chre with walls, intended for refuge and defence. As to the
circular buildings, which seem to have puzzled these antiqua-
ries, it is strange that they appear to have overlooked the
accounts which serve best to explain them. Strabo says that
" the houses of the Britons were round, with a high pointed
covering ; " Caesar says that they were only lighted by the door ;
in the Antonine Column they are represented as circular, with
an arched entrance, single or double. They were always small,
and seem to have contained but a single room. These circular
buildings were not, therefore, necessarily Druidical cells, as

340 HAROLD

has been supposed ; nor perhaps actual towers, as contended
for by Sir John Wynne ; but habitations, after the usual
fashion of British houses, for the inmates or garrison of the
enclosure. Taking into account the tradition of the spot men-
tioned by Sir John Wynne, and other traditions still existing,
which mark, in the immediate neighbourhood, the scenes of
legendary battles, it is hoped that the reader will accept the
description in the text as suggesting, amidst conflicting au-
thorities, the most probable supposition of the nature and char-
acter of these very interesting remains in the eleventh century,1
and during the most memorable invasion of Wales (under
Harold), which occurred between the time of Geraint, or Ar-
thur, and that of Henry II.

NOTE (M), PAGE 306.
The Idol Bel

Mons. Johanneau considers that Bel, or Belinus, is derived
from the Greek, a surname of Apollo, and means the archer;
from Belos, a dart or arrow.2

I own I think this among the spurious conceits of the learned,
suggested by the vague affinities of name. But it is quite as
likely, (if there be anything in the conjecture,) that the Celt
taught the Greek, as that the Greek taught the Celt.

There are some very interesting questions, however, for
scholars to discuss: viz. ist, When did the Celts first intro-
duce idols? 2d, Can we believe the classical authorities that
assure us that the Druids originally admitted no idol wor-
ship? If so, we find the chief idols of the Druids cited by
Lucan ; and they therefore acquired them long before Lucan's
time. From whom would they acquire them? Not from the
Romans; for the Roman gods are not the least similar to the
Celtic,, when the last are fairly examined. Nor from the Teu-
tons, from whose deities those of the Celt equally differ. Have
we not given too much faith to the classic writers, who assert

1 The ruins still extant are much diminished since the time
even of Pownall or Pennant ; and must be indeed inconsid-
erable, compared with the buildings or walls which existed at
the date of my tale.

2 Johann. ap. Acad. Celt. torn. iii. p. 151.

HAROLD 341

the original simplicity of the Druid worship? And will not
their popular idols be found to be as ancient as the remotest
traces of the Celtic existence? Would not the Cimmerii have
transported them from the period of their first traditional
immigration from the East? and is not their Bel identical with
the Babylonian deity?